a day in the life of piano monkey

letter to my youngest kiddies

2012-02-17T23:47:00.001-05:00

dear four little monkey-coached kiddies:

i am so sorry i missed our lessons this week. i tried my best to stay in shape to see you and share things, especially music, but my oral surgery is healing rather slowly and with such pain, i was not able to teach properly that evening.

i thought about taking more medication and showing up to teach. yes, that would have been one way of showing my dedication to your music lessons. however, i was not physically prepared and i could not take more medication as i took the maximum dosage prescribed.

i wonder what this cancellation meant to me as well as you. for me, i broke my words. things do happen in life and we all need to make adjustment, but it was a difficult decision to make for me- to make last minute change. i wonder how you guys felt when you found out the lessons were cancelled- do tell me next week, i want to hear your opinions.

perhaps we could think about each one’s commitment to one’s own actions and activities. i love working with you guys and yes, naturally i wish you could spend more time on the piano. but i also understand that there may be other things you find particularly demanding. would you have a think about what you would like to achieve through the music lessons? we can work on music but what i would like is to work on becoming a better, happier person. if practice seems to become a chore, let’s see to that we can have fresh commitment to our lessons/practices- let’s make it about our shared experience and growth, not just another ‘music’ to learn and forget.

i will be coming in on monday instead of tuesday. as my surgery heals, it is making me easily tired. I want to see you while I am still fresh from the rest (of weekend). it is also my gesture to show that you guys are important. you are not just someone i teach. you kids, every single one of you, i care for and listen to. so to make up for missed session, i will come earlier, to catch up, so that we won’t have such a big gap.

i hope you guys all have a great weekend and i look forward seeing you on Monday. You are all bright, able and busy persons. i am grateful that you do make the time for me and what i can share- life and music. so please, take my appreciation and let’s have a great lesson on monday. thank you.

canned cocktail wiener found in walter hall

2012-02-16T00:39:00.002-05:00

today, walter hall was hosting a special event for violists: heidi castleman masterclass. she teaches at juilliard and yes, i think it is quite exciting to play for a different teacher- you can take away so much with you, the inspiration, technical knowledge, a new emotional dimension, you name it. and i was confronted by a special person as well, just not as helpful, however impressive.

walter hall is a busy place. and it's only a natural thing that students want to get in there to practice- it sounds good, it feels good and yes, there is shortage of space at busy times of the day in school. however, it is a performance hall and not a practice room, especially regarding the pianos. the piano technicians work very hard to keep the instruments to meet the heavy demands. they come way before the students, to yield to the kiddies who wants to practice. and yes, they do go home after a day's work. and because many musical events take place in late evenings, it is important to 'guard' the pianos so that they will be ready for the events.

situation one: an undergrad comes in to the hall, have a whirl, playing schumann.

monkey: hey, do you have this place booked for a dress rehearsal?

kiddie: ur, no?

monkey: we have castleman masterclass this evening for viola students. the piano has been worked on this morning to accommodate for that. would you please refrain from using the piano?

kiddie: ur, ok (packs and leaves)

situation two: 5 sec later, another pair comes in and gets ready to have a violin-piano duo rehearsal.

monkey: would you please leave the hall if you have not booked the hall through the performance office?

kiddie: but im going to be here for only 5 minutes.

m: if you havent booked it, you should not be here. and no, this is not a practice room.

k: what's the problem?

m: there's a viola masterclass this evening and the piano has been conditioned for that event. they should have a well-cared instrument for their event.

k: but i practice here all the time. there was another kid just here playing piano.

yeah, i know who you are. i see you often in the hall. nothing to do with your playing, but if you arent supposed to be there and wasnt asked to leave, that's a bonus, not a right. anyways.

m: yes. well, sometimes one is lucky. i did ask him to leave. and you came. so i am asking you to not to have a rehearsal here in the hall with your pianist.

k: it wont damage the piano to play for 5 min.

what part of 'unintentional damage' is incomprehensible? i hope no one plans to damage things like concert pianos. but it does happen. and yes, technicians do go home. what happens if someone breaks something and just leaves without notifying anyone? what if there's nothing to be done? who would take the responsibility? would you want that for your own recital? haha, i bet not.

m: ... so to eliminate such possibility, students are not to practice here.

k: then why dont you put locks on the pianos?

are you serious?

because you intend to not to respect anyone and you cannot be trusted, you think everyone should not be trusted? ridiculous. well, there is a reason why both pianos arent locked.

m: ...for instance, it is student's responsibility to arrange to get the piano key for one of the steinways. but often, students havent read the policy and they may arrive to the hall with no keys in after-hour. there is no one in the office to open it for them. they would be left in the dust. pretty big loss if that was supposed to be THE dress rehearsal. so rather than leaving one in the dust, one piano will not have a lock on it, it's a grace room.

k: well-

m: if you have more variants of same protest, please bring it up to the performance office please.

k: do you work here?

why does it matter?

what you are doing isnt right and youve been confronted and perhaps feeling a bit small-penis-ish. (sorry that it is so visible. how weird such small thing can be so visible, i wonder)

your arguments are self-centered and illogical. there is no actual argument but only of selfish complains and immature reasons... and im not your mother, which makes this highly inappropriate.

you dont respect yourself and you expect no one else to respect anything (though you seem to think you should be respected by this 'unknown stranger' who is asking you to leave).

you think and say things should be just locked (alarming). it would be the same mentality that in shops without security guards, you should be allowed to shoplift. or that if you see a score you want from the library, you should rip it out and take it because they dont do bag checks in the library.

this is a hall and no, it is not a practice room. these rules are set for everyone's benefit. but of course, being young and bull-headed, you want to 'argue' about rules that you arent even aware- have you even checked out the use-of-hall policy? i bet not. if you did, you would not have started what you thought was discussion and what i thought was series of nonsensical yet spectacular display of immaturity.

however, after all has been explained to you reason-by-reason, your only come back is:

if ( i ) work here?

i wish you would realize how ridiculously silly you are. if it did not seem too cruel, i would have had no qualms about using your real name as you were obviously proud, stubborn and 'smart.' haha. geez. what would happened if i dont work here? would that make your statements 'right'? but... how?

m: yes i work here.

im sure i will see him again in the hall. and i am sure he'll think that stinker is here again to 'disturb' my practice in the hall. i will have to think once again about the simple difference in english words 'performance hall' vs. 'practice room' and the fact that if one cannot distinguish the difference, perhaps this is not the biggest challenge in their lives, oh dear.

im so grateful that st. lawrence quartet was just here the other night in the same hall. without 'real' music, sometimes 'music school lives' vignettes can be quite tragicomical.

i know better than to say sorry

2012-02-09T01:23:00.003-05:00

i have THE best mother.

though, she's got a bit of issue with time management. her aim of doing her very best often means that she's out of time- so she always takes piece of her own time to give to someone else, or rather, to someone else's wish that may be trivial for them, but not to her.

a passing comment may result in days of efforts, perhaps a sure surprise for the recipient, who was completely clueless. i cant help but be exasperated at times,

come on mom, they arent going to notice-

why are you wasting time? you only go to work from 5am till 10pm-

she simply says: it's never a waste.

she also simply say: im dead tired.

mother's a hearty stock, she's a real working donkey.

she carries the weight of the loved ones in her heart, all the time.

even the wee one who left this world a bit too untimely.

i bet in recent chaos of granny heart fiasco, she cant help but to think the little marker on the ground, of her little one, who wouldve been all over the family members, dictating and making noise, as if he have healed granny, of course, with a sly wink.

her eyes may be red and teary

but she wont say anything real.

she'll simply say: im dead tired.

last couple weeks has been demanding,

may be im not doing it right, may be i should be smarter,

more efficient, work harder,

but at the moment, i am failing a bit,

loose ends here and there, tempers get better of me at times.

mom carefully called to ask how the meeting with home visit with the social worker. all i could think was the fact i had to repeat the same things over and over again in recent weeks, as i had to translate, then discuss, translate back, only to report back hours later.

of course, if she had the time to do it, she wouldve done it. there's no doubt. she is, however, at work, 5am to 10pm. inhumane schedule. perhaps inhuman. i really wanted to call her after the meeting, but the day took better of me. chasing after people, scores, dropped notes (why i now really have to work better and faster- i just dont really know how... who shall i ask for a guidance? i feel rather stuck)-

when she called, i was on the backstage of the hall, feeling a bit skeptical: really, i do this for how much? is this what im worth? i cant even take mom's call? i didnt even have the time to call her during the day?

*for reference, today was:

09-10 nurse meeting

10-11 get to school

11-1230 desperate practice

1230-2 rehearsal

2-3 getting lost and then found for reh.

4-430 reading with heron lady

430-530 audition playing stuff

630-945 backstage

which left: 3-4 and 530-630 for emails/score binding/finding things/calling/food/sanity/etc.

so at 10pm, with her careful question: please, do tell,

i just lost my sanity for a bit: do tell about what and where and how?

and it went, the rage, for couple minutes.

then sobering silence in my head.

like a big gunshot.

i am sorry mom.

i will be better tomorrow.

shit, i am already trying to be better.

sorry ma, im still nothing like you.

you say it's okay,

i say it's not.

i promise that i will try to be better.

like you.

i am sorry i cant promise i will be better.

you give so much and i see that.

then i should give you something back at least.

so that you wont be so empty and worn.

i dare not say that i love you.

not in the way that i can smile and speak.
but i hope you know.
i am sorry-
i will try to be better.
we dont know if there'll be tomorrow,
but i know
that i can always do better.

i do love you mom.

5 dollars worth of humanity

2012-02-03T00:30:00.002-05:00

there's been much going on since the new year began: full-length chamber concert, return back flight to yyz, 3 recitals and mountains of music, new music festival backstaging, and yes, granny's wee heartattack. just like that, no space between heart and attack, all those 't's and 'a's are making it uneasy to look at. sharp, oblique and complicated.

it involved much shift in logistics for everyone in the family- but thankfully, after a big test, she was cleared to return home, if a bit fragile. i think the priority should be focused on getting her strength together again- she can either come back stronger and keep marching happily to the end of her days, or dissolve into fine dusts, a paler version of her oldself. i do not think she should necessarily live long. i think she should live up to the very last day with the most vi tality she can gather and process. wits. wishes. wants. all nice natural things as a living human being.

we have been offered a in-house help from the govt healthcare, who will come once a week and help with personal grooming- mainly bathing. the bathtub can be a quite a dangerous place- minnow presented granny with a brand new bath handle for christmas. but the personal helper has asked for a bath chair.

getting granny to accept personal care assistance has been a bit of difficulty. i will have to start talking to her slowly and from far away, as 1924, in near future so that i can write out her stories. so that when she may leave us, we wont have to make anything up! but one core thing about granny is the fierce independence. after the korean war, she went to work, to feed not only dad and herself, but also for her sister-in-law (as granny's bro was also killed in the war), who had brood of four kids. she never bothered to re-marry, as she wanted the best for dad, and the possibility of step-parent-friction was too much to bear.

and now, at age 87, to ask her to let some stranger assist her with simple thing as bath is a difficult thing. but we must- we must do it so that rest of us can feel a bit more assured. thanks to granny for the sacrifice- esp. for mom. you see, my mom lived with granny since day one of her marriage. by now, she's spent more days with granny than her own mother. to think of the world without granny is difficult enough to put a weight on her chest, says mom, without thinking, not aware of the love that she holds for granny. another corner of my mind is stained with simple love that mom for granny. these are the little bits of sustenance that i will consume little by little as life gets difficult at times- aint i lucky!

anyways, bath chair. i looked into buying a new one, in a shop, then online. it wont be here by friday if i order online. in shops, they were fetching top dollars. so i looked for used one. and voila, lucky me:

1. i had to take granny to hospital appt today at 10am, finch/yonge
2. someone was selling a bath bench near finch/yonge, 20 bucks

i wrote to the lady: could i have it for tomorrow morning as i go up north to take granny to the doc's? in that case she can have it for friday and she wont have to be scolded by personal helper in the language she cant even explain the situation.and lady said she has to ask her husband, however, she'll try her best.

so last night at 11pm, weve decided that mr. can come back from night shift, wait for me at a street near doc's office (their house was about 30 min away walking and with bus schedule, it wouldve taken even longer, so i asked if somone can kindly meet me at a neutral place). i put a twenty dollar bill in my wallet.

then i took it out.
i went and found an envelop.
i signed a simple card.
i put in an extra 5.
thanks for helping me out.
it was sealed and packed.

this morning, at 945am, there it was, a blue odyssey van. the car door opened, a smiling yet tired man came out. clearly you work non-regular night shift, how hard it mustve been for you to delay your sleep, only because i have asked you for a delivery to a third place- i felt so glad that i had put in an extra 5.

'hello, are you mr. greg?'
'aha, yes, (monkey), how is your grandmother this morning?'

i was so touched. as if he simply dropped the deepest red ink into clear water. a simple greeting. but you see, he meant it. it was a big greeting. he wanted to know and he cared. he doesnt even know who i am. didnt matter. he knew that i also have an elderly who needs a bit more love, just as he does (he's got 90 years old mom whose graduated to a bit more serious gear, hence selling the chair), which was enough to open up so easily and gracefully.

'thanks sir, she's well, i am going to see her at the doc's!'
'well, here it is, please do check it, if it's not right- '
'this is perfect. thank you, here's the payment-'
'it's cold, can i get you a lift to the doc's?'
'thanks so much but youve missed your sleep-'
'it's alright, my wife said you are nice, she thought we should do it this way'
'aha thanks so much-'

my knees were buckling, thanks to his kindness. i had to look away in order to not to well up. ah, mr. greg, do you have any idea who beautiful of a person you are? your wife? you delayed two hours of sleep after a long night shift only because i asked you two politely and that meant that i was a nice person? and you are offering to go to the opposite direction, just to drop me off, not knowing how far the doc's office may be, all because you want to help?

anyways, as it's only a few blocks away, we shared good wishes for the respected elderly ladies and departed. then came car honk, and he got out of the car, running up to me.

'you put in too much money! there's 5 extra!'

'sir, i put it in there for being so helpful-'
'but no, we agreed on 20, 20 is plenty-'
'you had to stay up for hours, just for me-'
'i know, but it's okay, we arent doing it for money-'
'i am not trying to insult you, i wished i had more time so i couldve brought you something to share with your old lady- bag of candy perhaps, but i didnt have the time. only thing i can do is may be put in a drop of gas on your tank. without your kindness, granny wouldve been chairless, which wouldve got a word or two from the worker lady-'
'but we wanted to do this for you, because we also care-'

for measly five dollars, we pulled and pushed. not because no one wanted it, but because we both want the other to take it. how often does this happen in the world? especially when you are buying things off from the internet? such typical inhumane transaction turned into such a heartbreaking moment. he took the fiver reluctantly and said:

'if i knew, i wouldve at least brought you a coffee, it's a cold day'

thank you sir, for your kindnesss.

as i carried the chair to the appt, i felt so cared for. a stranger couple who decided to be not just a seller on the big wide net, but who became good friends for me and granny, my family. and the silly pull - push of five dollars.

the world is a beautiful place and yes, there is enough love in the world to mend granny's slightly worn heart. who knew that i was going to be offered genuine altruistic human gesture- all through a simple bath chair. days like today, i am thankful. for all my friends and well-wishers. for myself, my family and my friends. for my world. much love to you all.

date with granny on friday night

2012-01-21T00:30:00.001-05:00

my wee old granny went with me today,

venturing out to the cold, with her new shiny shoes,

riding taxis in town,

i took her out for a bit of air,

as i definitely know

how to show a girl a good time for a friday night.

she is hopefully now asleep, under the florescent lights

as doctors will take a look at her heart,

heart made of love,

just bit worn on the corners,

enough to show what she's made out of-

soft fibres, weaved and worked,

with feathers of life, fragile and beautiful.

she'll be back home before the year of the dragon-

i pray.

my wee granny, who i love

and she will return to family,

who she loves.

*my granny had a wee heart attack it seems. we'll know better once tests are done. but thanks everyone for warm wishes. she's 87 years old and i was happy to think she was the brightest, sharpest lady in the entire ward. hooray. what a class act!

to find a minnow in the wide wide water

2012-01-20T00:43:00.000-05:00

three years ago today, i met a sleepy minnow in amidst of electronic music. on 4 january 2009, i arrived to banff centre, my home for the year. i have not played much piano for a long while since i finished my degree and it was all a big surprise to find myself in one of the world's greatest place- for arts but more importantly, for humanity. after finishing my doctoral degree, i enjoyed working at the coffee shop (the regular 5am - 130pm full day shift for the type A financial district crowd, mon-fri...) and i wondered what i should do with life. i did think hard about going into the corporates ladder within starbucks. i told self that i did not miss music that much.

and three years ago today, i was getting ready to play a suite in a public concert on next day (which i havent done since i played my last doctoral recital), day full of practice and rehearsals, sharing personal tales and ideas with total strangers who i just met- only because we were all there with one simple purpose: to express and communicate. in this particular evening, a friend was sharing her electronic music project in her studio.

and there it was: a human noise: a snore.
i was situated deep inside the studio, underneath the piano, sitting on floor with a wee glass of wine, ears open to all these complicated sound- and a snore. which was followed by a small 'ouch.'

i straightened my back, pulled my gaze from the ground to figure out what was going on- and there he was.

minnow was sitting up, rubbing his leg, with world war one trenches under his eyes.

haha. the minnow also was on his first banff trip, greatly encouraged by a friend. he flew in that day, across the puddle and a shuttle. he decided that his best solution to fight the jetlag is- to ignore it. so he bravely came out to the night concert in the studio with his banff connector lady. sat. crouched. lay down on the floor. and came the inevitable snooze and a snore. and connector lady, baffled in embarrassement, kicked him to wake him up- which he did, with a small yet perfectly audible 'ouch.'

i was amused and intrigued.

the day after, i played in the concert and i was in a bit of a emotional state. such weird thing, to come back to the stage, to pick up a piece of music and try to express the self through it. to be honest, to give all that i can give. to show in public- even walking naked in a shopping mall in christmastime seemed preferrable (if only theoretically so)- it was embarrassing. stressful. shocking. difficult. i did not play as well as i wouldve like to (though i realize that it's a bit much to ask- especially for the rusty performing self) and behind the closed door of my studio, number 151 of music and sound building, i was teary. new pianist friend came by to see me. he left me with a warm, genuine consolation. then came a small wee talk from minnow. i thought: who are you, beautiful person?

we looked for chances to share time with one another. even if it was only during the meal time, with me eating mountain of browned meat, shattering his expectation that i would be a veggie. two weeks go really fast in banff. and as soon as i met him, it was time for him to return to the world. even with the flight delays and all kinds of stuff. but we did have one afternoon to make music, talk and drink lovely red tea, as the dusk came down the sharp spines of the mountains, in the most beautiful colours of dark blue, grey and hint of bloodwood. his last afternoon in banff. at night, we all went to have a drink at the bar and to the morning, we talked, talked talked while others peeled off to find sleep and rest. we wished the morning would come a bit slower. there wasnt enough time.

and it's three years ago, already, that i noticed this particular minnow in the wide world with millions of fishes swimming around. and here we are- still a puddle apart! and with each day, i wake with a fresh anticipation: to hear from the dearest minnow.

everyday of those three years are tightly weaved with gossamer-thin, barely-there-spider-silk connections. letters. snail mails. packages. thoughts. strange coincidental unisons (we refer this as 'quark,' where each comes with identical word/expression simultaneously). emails. texts. pictures. and when we are lucky, we connect in flesh and blood, with warmth and easy embrace.

after thousands of emails that connected us and probably millions of fragments and sentences, here's from one of the earliest emails we share:

... yes, I do feel as though you understand me; and yes it's rare, especially to this degree. This is why I like you so much. Because there is so often a mask or a vacuum between people that allows life to continue on auto. And we are on manual. And because there's no refraction of the light between us, we can understand and be comfortable. I don't have to be anyone other than who I am, for you; and that's a treat.

i am so lucky to have such a beautiful conversational partner.
minnow, you are beautiful. and here we are, three years. and we weave on.
thank you.

feeding chinley bowlful of dense music

2012-01-07T12:43:00.004-05:00

this winter, we have decided that it would be grand to open the new year with a banging smashing concert. no lollipops and potpourris, though they can be nice. but there's something about a good meaty joint and a glass of robust barolo...

i am quite fortunate to have friends who are generous. the best kind, really- we share normal things such as food and ride-to-work. we, however, are extra lucky that we can share something so intimate- music. for me, it's a different experience playing with chinley friends, as they are mature boys (and hopefully girls as well, for next concert!) who are willing to take the risk of 'playing,' not just rehearsing. surely, every 'go' has it's own spots and scratches, but we are able to go on as a group, to strive to make music- without clinging onto it and therefore holding it back from the audience from the full experience. and the fact they work in a great orchestra means several things- including somewhat sane schedule (yay for reherasals and pints), great abilities (ears, mind and technical) and most beneficially, thirst for chamber music. as they hardly ever get to play without the silly man on the front who is waving a stick. without the bulk of fellow comrades of a section.

however, it does bring interesting challenges, such as shifting gears- from being part of a whole to individuals in conversations. speaking without the weight of the others, they are often laughing at this 'enormous pressure' to take responsibility. silly boys. you see, the funny thing is that everyone speaks beautifully. they all have lovely personalities- so different though, far from one to another as possible. and this allows 'us' to make such colourful expressions.

and as we play more and more, we get more daring.

you see, chinley is a small wee town. in fact, the only pub in our little town is the conservative club. haha. old hall, the local pub is actually in whitehough, the very next village. we often do things like garden party fundraiser and the favoured lists from the classical FM- a standard procedure for casual concert goers, i suppose.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chinley

yet, in the past, we have mixed in a thing or two which are no longer easy to eat. but only in bits and pieces. somehow, this particular program became a heavy-weight though: martinu cello sonata no 2, beethoven kruetzer sonata and brhams g minor quartet. it wasnt intentional. it's just the way it shaped itself (this happens on regular basis among us, as we simply just like to play anything, as long as we are among friends!)-

yes, wee monkey.

we will bring serious music to metropolis of chinley.

and minnow- similar story, where he found sonata practices quite weird as a boy- going through the fragments, alone. so now he quite happily eat a heavy sonata or two. and matthew- well, he's a violist/accordionist/arranger. let's just say he likes to play with his noodles. he would quite happily eat a sandwich stuffed with quicksilver for a snack, i think.

and our audience- the small local population, grew to love us, i think. see, they were used to the boys and girls from the phil and their concerts (and also add a good friend charlie, who dabs not one but two instruments: piano and violin!). and so when i showed up on the hills, the paving was already done- even with a good working sturdy piano! lucky monkey. it is a genuine welcome when you get your bum down on the worn seat of the pub, someone may ask: when's the next concert? we are looking forward!

but we did slightly wonder/worry how they would take this program. of course we believe it'll all great and they would love it (as we were determined anyways):

and they did love it.

the church was packed. extra seats were occupied with bright-eyed people, 730pm till 10pm- a good length, chunky concert. and every single one of them rose to their feet and greeted us with enthusiasm when we finished 'playing'- we played like little kiddies who were totally engrossed in our own game, serious, trusting, forgiving and 'together.'

with substantial money raised once again to the organ fund, we talked and drank, ate and laughed till the wee hours after the concert. all i can say is that i am so thankful for my friends and their generosity. with such friends, we'll continue to feed the locals of chinley unending bowl of dense music, packed with love and generosity. i hope you can make it one day, to the small church of st. mary's, where we play like children, with no fear. and please, feel free to join in. after all, that's what life is about i hope?

good bye, old year! smell you later.

2012-01-01T20:19:00.000-05:00

another year is going and another one is starting. however, depending on which calender is being referred you may still be in the old pools of days- like a puddle, collected drops of rain, dew, from the sky, now on the ground. and then it will dry up when the sun comes out (though it seems highly unlikely at the moment, thanks to damp winter), floating till the next chance it finds to descend down- whether it may be a sweet drink for a thirsty plant or another drop from the bucket of soggy winter sky.

however, one must keep in mind that even a simple water drop can be transformed into something magial- like the new stream that just came up one day in the cracken edge (the back hill from small wee house of ours in uk). no one knows where it came from- but it's quite busy one, alive and fresh- just starting to carve out its own path along the soft earth and the hard rocks that creates memorable silhouette of the rocky teeth of cracken edge (which is so different from all the other hills nearby: southhead, eccle's pike, they are all very round. even in jacob's ladder, where the mysterious rock animals live, breathing very slowly, through decades, years, centuries).

in a weird sense, it was funny to send off an old year- minnows were over at good friends' place, warm with fire in hearth, blazing oven turning out blistered pizza dough with the scent of summer days- of fragrant, sweet tomatoes and sharp salty edge of olives. even with the tang of the green grass of the long sunshine (and even longer shadows) that cuts through the richness of goat cheese (though the lady finds it a bit too sharp, haha, great, more for us!) the night was already deep when we started to walk to their house- and the night was still long when we returned, bit after the pumpkin hour. nothing really have changed. but then everything has been changing, ever so slightly. as the moon shone on the other side of the sky, hardly visible yet highly perceptible. bellies was full of love and generosity. as steps became a bit more erratic and joyous, yet heavy- heading towards warm basket, another night of rest in shared company, somewhere in the middle, the new year arrived.

what would i wish for this new year? what shall i seek for? shall i embark on an adventure? on quest for rich?

i cant decide what i would like. i suppose that also may indicate i am content. perhaps it is the very ability to find contentment that keeps the years connected, seamless, even with the bits of grind and bumps- i thought of my wee brother, a pile of grey ashes, living through the lives of others as the wind tickled my ears, as it always will, especially in a dramatic night where we, as a collective population, passes by another milestone.

good bye, old year. hello, new year. shall we go? it's always exciting to step onto a new page. what shall i remember, what shall i savour. what would i find and what could i gather. perhaps a bit less rain will do the trick, but as long as i have a warm dry basket, perhaps i wont mind so much.

agent provocateur banjo

2011-12-26T21:44:00.000-05:00

130am on a boxing day night,

in the little house on the hills:

let's see if that banjo is any good?

minnow got this banjo from mr. p. eliotte, a singer/guitarist man from the years gone by (60s) in manchester. they played together for years, since minnow was a wee teenager with more hankering for 'cooler' music than chets stuff. their specialty was the music of 1940s: ragtime, al bowlley, early country, pre-rock/roll. it was the music of a man who hated the drum kit and yes, the beatles (this, i can concur). anyways, he doesnt exactly remember when he inherited this banjo, but it's been kicking around rather quietly, without strings and couple pegs which has rusted/rotted away. it's still loose necked, though with tweaking, it was certainly playable today. as you will see.

when i decided to pick up fiddle playing, i got immensely frustrated with the bow-arm business. i never had to expose my armpits to anyone, nevermind be fixed on such position (i suppose that helps with keeping the pits dry). my friends, colleagues, random passer-bys all said 'it does get easier,' but i know that with piano training, finger picking (for a guitar, ex) is much easier than trying to manage unruly horse hairs under some tension which makes even the most beautiful wood bend.

so? well, i tweedle with stringed instruments often without bow. just fingers. i can do alright faking on a guitar or a bass. often i do fool around with the fiddle and a recorder, making noise with pizz, no arco. so it's been on the list of things to do, to revive the banjo- bela fleck being uber cool also helps a bit, i suppose.

we ordered the strings may be more than a half year ago. then the pegs fell apart. we looked on the net to see what this instrument is- in hope of finding parts, yes, the pegs. it's a j. e. dallas, before the company was bought and went into mass production (now called jedson), which dates the instrument back in 1920s. all original parts. so perhaps getting new pegs were going to be complicated. tonight, minnow took the operation, with some tools- including vice grip that was integral to tuning (without pegs). it took awhile as there are not so many information on 5-string banjos.

anyhow, it was revived, and i took it off his hand, just tuned, and after busting head on the wall for a bit, i figured out how to play: I- IV - V on g major. hell ya. great. i can pick strings. i am the genius. i went for it. this quick success apparently brought out the previously unknown desire of minnow to jam on mandolin with the banjo (this is where it gets boisterous). so we jammed. loudly. a la americana.

yeah, like YOU can play the banjo quietly.

then came the furious knock on the door.

it was the neighbour- who, in his angry rant, apparently just had a stroke last week (we didnt know), whose wife has been ill for years (this, we did know, but it did became a constant at a point), and couldnt sleep because we are too uncivilized and too loud. he mustve really saved up, as things from two years ago have crept up on conversation (though i do have to clarify that this particular example does not involve me nor minnow, but particular offspring while he was visiting me in canada; so much we could do when we are in... another continent). he was really angry. hailstones. plague. locusts. whichever.

and he left when he was done. how do we know? we heard the door slam.

i feel really sorry about the situation. you see, for years that minnow/i have been here, there has been zero mention of any noise leakage from either side of the quadplex (we are number 3). and we can hardly ever hear the old neighbour couple nor the young family the other way with a brand spanking new baby (except the occasional bathtime crying. but then you would expect it as bathroom is usually crazy resonant place). therefore we assumed that may be these houses were built properly with heavy, thick stuff.

and yeah. we forgot that the banjo was made to be bloody loud.

holiday can be a stressful thing. end of the year can be very stressful thing. especially if one just had a stroke and one's partner is scheduled for a grave internal surgery that she is too weak for. talking to old ladies for years at the church while i worked as an organist, i think people, after certain age, views this short period between christmas to new year's with much fear, anxiety and regrets. in fact, i used to everything in my power to avoid people above age of 70 in church during this time, as they frequently called wrath of god upon you, while you are still in the church. the passage of time must feel differently- elusive, incredibly expensive now, never enough, often accompanied by life things that may burden souls: sickness, aging, loss of people and just plain winter.

there's nothing to be done except to put the banjo away. at least tonight. too bad i really like the instrument. im really not trying to be an asshole but it's got such great voice. in fact, when i laid it on the couch, it spoke with resonance. cant ever shut a song bird up, can we- unless we gut it out. but yeah, it's a granny banjo. it's probably older than my own granny, who was born in 1924. what a great thing that it found its voice again- it will need adjustments, esp. with the loose neck, but it's got beautiful tone. hand made, back in different era.

and boy, did it give voice to the neighbour.

i hope he sleeps. i hope she sleeps. i wish them the very best of possible days. however, i am going lay low for a bit. no banjo after 9pm. that goes for you too, mandolin. and i will find a name for this banjo. someone suggested widow-maker. i think it's slightly ill-timed...

vignettes through life, slightly odder.

2011-12-19T20:31:00.000-05:00

my parents live in a classy buildling.

but with such busy schedule,

surely santa can have one bigmac meal?

last freelancing location recording session,

with new apogee 'geoff',

please refer to craig ferguson show. haha.

and i thought i saw everything in the world now.

i dont think santa should have had large fries.

though children cannot see below his chest on cam,

if the elves arent feeling vindictive...

oh the feeling of fillet steak right along with your ribcage...

i was so happy to get an dental appt and got cleaning done.

surely the sign of aging, i believe.

shaving one sweater.

enough to make a full grown adult snarky.

vignettes through the city

2011-12-18T20:21:00.000-05:00

for the right goodies,

i dont mind looking like stalin.

korean bakery goodie with ms. chung.

sleepy giant taking the last look at the world,

by the time he wakes, it'll be 2012.

cold winter smokers. a few left nowadays.

i wonder if the culture will ever survive?

total non sequitur conversation of street arts.

such direct answer, yes- no?

after three separate trips,

granny gets new walking booties!

go walk that shoes granny!

no use, you lose. love, c.

we all pop like popcorns!

2011-12-14T23:54:00.001-05:00

winter is here!

from the usual night walk with chemist :)

the other day, i had funny feeling that i need to get in touch with chemist, an old friend of mine. weairdly enough, i cant never really tell how long i have known someone without serious computing- so many of my lovely friends feel as if ive known them forever. how great is that! well, ive known him for almost three years and though i dont get to see him very often, i cant help but to be in contact when that lightening urge strikes.

well well, he tells me that he just had his phd thesis defense and now moving to boston to start the new year as a postdoc! i am very proud of him and it's a shame i didnt get to see him one more time before i left yyz. but you see, it's because that one free evening, i was scheduled to meet up with one of my dear friends from undergrad years, who is also wrapping up her thesis, totally buried and had to make inhumane effort to come above the water- but she did, yay! was a great meeting up in one of city's most colourful places, pomegranate restaurant.

nevermind spelling it,

i can barely say what it was,

but this quince-lamb stew was...!

while we tucked into our rich persian food and post-pint, i get a short text from s. cochlan who left nebraska with me (in fact, her dad is still terrified of my driving. i drive, according to him, totally mad) (and he used to work as a fireman, so may be when he feels 'threatened,' there may be a hint of truth...) that she's in just next pub, sneeeeeeky dee's. you see, if she lived in yyz, it wouldve been just nice. but she lives in buffalo, ny. so i really didnt have a choice but to jump ship and see her as well. what a fantastic night.

bookbomber is already in china, doing his tour thing. a month in the east, he was so pumped about being a pianist and not having to be a carpenter (though i bet he really enjoy the carpentry bits). dearest friend mr. oore is getting through the month through trudging through confusing medical journeys and belated works- but at least his holiday is also near, where he will get some face time with little nephew :D

we, the accompanists, bought ourselves:

lunch and lunch hours! hooray.

flomak have squeezed me and peter a fare-thee-well-busy-ass-year dinner in midst of juries and juries and juries. happy holiday to one of my fav kiddies, she's popping to west to vancouver to be... a solo piano student, no accompanying for a bit, hooray! *so she thinks, ha ha. i was lucky to also put in a quick dinner with ms. melody- we go back a long way, back in the times in orford, it's nice to see her around school but it is even nicer to have a civilized lunch when neither of us have sold our soul per hour rate.

and the day before leaving yyz, i luckily managed to have a short meet up with one of the dearest piano kiddies from undergrad prog who is now working hard, teaching hard and practicing hard in indiana. though it may be a short tea meeting, i was grateful that she made the time for me. how awesome.
and now, i am leaving to cross the pond. i hope mom/dad/granny will be alright and well till i am back, that my bro gets through the mad holiday season alright in one of city's busiest restos and that hills will greet me with some proper winter break. i am thinking beer. is this too simple? i hope not. after all, we arent too far from popping corn kernels, popping in random direction when there's just enough heat and moisture- to be light, free and... tasty!

blurs of december

2011-12-12T19:38:00.001-05:00

mrs santa hustling before noon.

i bet she wishes she can take that back at 3pm,

on 2nd shopping wknd of december.

i remember thinking that december, i will catch on with you. i will dig my heels down and think about the important things and put period on every sentence i began this year. i will write cards and see people, catch up with life and thank the appropriate people for enriching my life.

realistically, i didnt get to do much of it! i dont really understand what have happened! school finished a bit early this year and i did take plenty of odd pictures which made me laugh. but the first two weeks seriously flew off. i learned a new lutoslawski piece for violin/piano. i played for young, ambitious and hard-working musicians in the most pleasant manner. i didnt make it to the bassoon bonanza this year thanks to developing cold. i barely saw some people i desperately wanted to see.

in a sense, i had just enough time to book dental appointments, do laundry, pay bills and pack, sprinkled with a few visits from lovely lovely people. so here it is, a short entry of how life's been, nothing grand but i do take much pleasure looking back and making little remarks, so that i can open this invisible time capsule to relive the nice moments. soon i be off to england for a proper holiday, hooray. another chapter in monkey life.

75% of kiddies i teach once a week.
i will miss them during the holiday.

though they will be happy having some free time!

they work almost too hard, i feel...

little wee puppy is waiting for holiday,

'when are we going to have some walkies away from work bench?'

a late weekend evening at the conservatory.

a toy car, now free of its mad master,
left in the big world of freedom,

burns revenge against human kind

(watch out, mr. caretaker!)

what was i going to say *blank

2011-11-28T01:33:00.001-05:00

i just came back from un-monkey-like pub visit on a sunday evening. it was a nice pint- well, two half pints. yes. i know. logically makes no sense, but as a wee drinker, that's how i must roll- halfer at a time. we went to the pub to celebrate amazing bassoon kiddie's recital- an event that i have been looking forward for a long time.

i always think of a moose calf whenever i see him. he's quiet. not in a great hurry. but not because he doesnt have things to say/think. i think it's the opposite, really. he's busy thinking and processing, like the way a little moose calf chews on prairie grass. and just like a calf that have lived through a winter, he's not easily fazed or swayed. and most of all, such a great smile! when he approached to me to work with him, i was glad. smile was enough of a sign.

november is always full of mayhem and vagabonds, unexpected near-disasters and comically in comprehensive situations. we worked through november, despite of bit nutty schedule and loads of responsibilities, juggling and juggling. i wish that we could have more time rehearsing. but that's always going to be the case i suppose. i tried as much as i could to prepare but nothing beats working together, esp. when one has to play with another.

long story short, i missed a bar in saint-saens bassoon sonata. second movement. the 'uncomfortable'spot. was it the long day/week that i was pulling? was it the lack of rehearsal? was it just 'meant to be'? was it physical mis-execution? i have no idea.

what i know is that for a bar, i was completely blank and that have not have happened to me in a very long time. and luck has nothing to do with it. in a weird sense, i ve been trying to come up with some sort of contingency plan for the unplanned events, such as complete 'blank out.' i analyse, study, do structural mapping, practice things in odd ways and unnecessary combinations so that ideally, i can always stay on course.

but i wasnt there. a whole bar.

what's in a bar?

well, i just watched the video of the recital- there is only a very small 'missing' part. we got back on alright and continue to ride to the end. may be hardly perceptable. without looking at the score (where i remember being lost), it is difficult even for me to find that place. but you see, without that bar, the entire piece does not exist. it would be a different bar. and saint-saens, who i begin to appreciate more and more, wrote this piece in his last years in algeria (86 years old), not attached to anyone but of his dogs- this is the penultimate composition of a child prodigy who had his debut at salle pleyel at the old farty age of ten. then yes... that one bar matters. not to mention it felt as if i was being lost in some dark water for full 5 minutes (or even longer).

the most regretful things is that i did think of doing additional work for that one bar- as it felt tricky for no reason at all, till well, i dropped the ball today. darn it. i shouldve analyzed. i shouldve memorized, fingersing, shoulder positions, everything i could possibly think of, i should have. but november being november and me being lazy, i blamed the month and skipped work.

everyone thinks it's a no biggie. well, missing the bar wasnt the biggie. after this blog post, i am going to analyse and i am going to know it inside out. i am not binded by the incident with anger or frustration. i did end up shedding a few tears among friends because i was not happy about it. that i missed a bar. and the fact this was one of those performances that i really wanted to do better than i can. and i overreached. and fall. if briefly.

no one likes to make mistake. but in this case, i wanted this recital to go well not for myself, but for the moose calf boy who has been busting himself to get ready for it. and i wanted to be the best support he could have had. and that particular bar, i shouldve prepped self for that one bar. 'should have' is always a dangerous thing to see on a page. haha.

anyways, things happen and i find it odd that i was welling up with tears not because for self, but because i wanted to be the very best i could be for someone else. and i really mean it, no false modesty or anything. well, i wonder what i could do to make the situation better- i will learn the part and i will memorize it, good for life i hope. my emotions, well, i am okay. it's done with. and i have come up with an idea to offer him something, not because he complained but because i want to make it 'right' for the bar i missed.

otter boy said: now i understand partially why you say 'music is only music.'

that's right. music is only music but life can become music. and in this case, me wanting to be the very best i could be for the moose calf kiddie, it was an idea that was larger than the reality of today. and with this recital finished, i shall get rid of silly tears that welled up, as they are out and done with, and move onto being myself: get on with it, it's only music. and rejoice the fact that there are people that inspire me to try to be greater than me at the present point. and i will try rise to it, even if it involves couple falls, here and there.

congrats moose calf kiddo! you were awesome today.
i will try to do better and hopefully next time, i will be there for you, as much as i can be and i want to be- and we shall simply play music, without tears or frustrations. we'll be what we will be- impractical yet passionate people, making music at that given point of life.

... tis a simple request yet...

2011-11-23T01:37:00.001-05:00

so this conversation continues on. it's quite amazing, no?

when i returned from work at wee hour, i found another email from susan (but now with a last name 'LI', a vast improvement? it's at least 100% improvement, going from no last name to full last name) / alicia jame (this is still a bit of mystery).

Dear (monkey's name in a different font altogether)

Thank you for your email.
We have read your email 'seriously,thank you very much for the suggestion.' (another font)
We will refund you $120 for the mistake and you can own the jacket.
Sorry to cause you so much trouble and we will do our best to help you.
Best Regards,
Susan Li

and i thought: this is still nutty and yet amazing. how many variants of 'cancellation/refund' can i write? anyways, i did my very best not to be rude. or condescending. or bursting out laughing in helplessness. i mean, what am i supposed to do?

to susan li,

(i still have not seen any official company information here; should i consider that a mistake or should i assume that you still have not read all parts of my previous correspondences?)

i have to say, your english is getting better by the minutes.

what makes me curious is that i cannot be the first one to point out your sub-par communication skills of previous correspondences. what have happened to the others? do you always send out a nonsense reply until someone writes back gingerly for days? anyway, i could not help to point out some details once again. let's use red and green in spirit of christmas shopping season:

Thank you for your email. (this is fine)

We have read your email seriously,thank you very much for the suggestion.

(once again, you need a space after a comma)

(and make sure that once you have cut-and -pasted from another person's correction,

you should always check the format so that it is in same font and same size)

We will refund you $120 for the mistake and you can own the jacket.
Sorry to cause you so much trouble and we will do our best to help you.

:i have no clue why you would make such an offer after reading my replies (repeatedly so)

i do not understand how i could explain myself to you any differently (as i have spent at least three replies saying the same thing),

but here it is once again:

i do not want a partial refund with the jacket.

i do not want to own the jacket that may not be a genuine item as that is against my principles.

you have done nothing to establish the real identity of your company.

therefore i now have to assume that this is not a genuine canada goose item.

hence i do not want it.

there are such things as intellectual rights and trademarks law.

and i do respect them.

i am asking for the full refund of my payment and cancellation of the order.

please, if you do mean what you say, stop causing any further trouble, do close the dispute by refunding my payment, take the jacket away from my life and i ask you to do the very basic for me, not even your best, i spelled out every detail of my wish:

cancellation of the order.

and please do include your company's physical contact information, ie. address and phone number.

i am hoping that the above sentence would be easy to understand and even easier to comply with,

as any business would be supplying such information freely and honestly,

dr monkey

oh the complicated life i live. i learned today that a friend of mine have also bought a jacket from the same site, just hours before she read my post. she was howling then realized that the url looked too similar, too familiar... darn! at least she knows what to expect. it's often much better for oneself to be amused than ticked i suppose. love to all who had to deal with counterfeit product/bad service/everything in between.

'but i dont want it anymore!'

2011-11-22T02:01:00.000-05:00

http://www.canada-goose.com/counterfeiting/

monkey to fake internet merchant 1, as 4 nov 2011 order has been bank processed in complete silence. the website, of course is now moved/disabled. so in wonder i wrote on 15 nov:

hello,
i have put in an order for a jacket, but i have not heard from you nor received any sort of reply (i have emailed you previously regarding this order). would you please update what is the current status of this order (no. 54) and whether it is actually being processed or if there's any problems,
sincerely,
dr c

followed by a weird unexpected msg from merchant to monkey, from 'alicia jame' on 17 nov:

Dear (monkey),
Thank you for your order.
We will sent the goods within 3 days when we receive your order,so pls be patient,any problem pls feel free contact with us,thank you!
Best Regards,
Susan

so a curious correspondence started to roll on its own, 18 nov:

hello susan,
(i have to say i have never seen a business reply without a proper name, including last name of the correspondent)

despite your untimely late and inappropriate business reply,
i am letting you that i do not wish to continue with the order,
that i am requesting you to cancel the order and that i have requested my bank to dispute the transaction your company has processed on my credit card.

the company is completely uncommunicative and unprofessional:
1. my previous emails were all ignored up to this point (where i stated the decision to refer this case to my bank's dispute dept)-
which is a rule breaker from your side, as your website does promise reply within 24 hours of submission of a complaint/information request

2. shipping dates are wildly out of proportion- your customer feedbacks on web clearly led me to believe that the transaction would be completed in 3-4 days and there is no apparent explanation or a disclaimer that there would be a long wait period with zero communication from the merchant.

3. and when a company that decide to communicate using short-hand internet slang ('pls' is something that teenagers use to text their friends in informal setting. it's never been accepted anywhere in professional world), dotted with gross grammatical errors ('so pls be patient,any problem pls feel free contact with us?' it makes no sense grammatically) i have no reason to believe that this is a legitimate company who deals with genuine merchandise. i have to say i have never seen a business reply without a proper name of the correspondent, which would include his/her last name.

4. which makes me to believe that even when i receive the merchandise, i have no guarantee that it is the real canada goose item, in fact, it is most likely to be an imitation. i cannot personally bear the idea of buying counterfeit merchandise.

so please,
do cancel my order and refund the money please. or i shall wait till my credit card company's dispute department will resolve the situation with your company.

dr. monkey

a returned msg from alicia jame/susan on 18 nov:

Dear dr. monkey,
Thank you for your email.
We have check your order and we found the good
We have check that we have sent the good for you.
If you want to return,pls sent back the jacket when you receive it.You are surposed to pay for the shipping if there have no problem with the jacket.
All of the jacket we sold are real,pls be patient,any problem pls feel free to contact with us,thank you!
Best Regards,
Susan

another message to alicia/susan on 19 nov:
to: susan with no last name, or alicia jame,

i feel as if i am trapped in a bad comedy as at this point i dont think you are capable of communicating in english.

first of all, i am not even sure who i am addressing here, are you susan or alicia?
what company do you belong to and who am i speaking with? what is your official position and who is your employer?
are you with the counterfeit company or are you with the third-person company who has been contracted to deal with complaints?
and what is your physical address?
if you are a real company, you should and would provide all these information.
though i doubt you would understand what i am actually requesting at this point.
so please, do explain yourself further.

re: your reply, none of your sentences are up to minimal standard of english writing- grammatically and commercially. so i am not sure if i am actually able to understand anything that you want to express. let's take a short look.

1. 'We have check your order and we found the good'
: this is an incomplete sentence that is missing articles and incorrect verb tense. when written proper, it should at least resemble this example
: though what are are you referring as 'good?' you found a good in my order? which would be my credit card information? what you want to say may be: 'we found the good that corresponds your order.' additionally a proper noun in this context here would be a 'merchandise'.
: dont forget your period to finish a sentence. without it, it is not a sentence.

: 'We have checked your order and we found the good.'

2. 'We have check that we have sent the good for you.'
: same here. incorrect tense and contextually inappropriate noun.
: koodos on your period on this sentence though.

: 'We have checked that we have sent the merchandise for you.'

3. 'If you want to return,pls sent back the jacket when you receive it'
: where am i wanting to return to? what is returning? i am certainly not returning to wherever it is, as i do not know the location nor the subject you are referring to. though i am going to assume a minimal intelligence that you are referring to the 'merchandise' that would be the focal point of the subject of this incomplete sentence.
: 'pls' is never used in proper business or formal writing. it is spelled 'please' if you have never seen it in its full form.
: 'sent' is a past verb tense. i cannot send anything, never mind a jacket, if i have not received it.
: yes, you do need another period to close this sentence.

: ' If you want to return the merchandise, please send back the jacket when you receive it.'

4. ' -.You are surposed to pay for the shipping if there have no problem with the jacket.'
: i cannot understand what you want to say here, but let's go through the mechanics first.
: when writing in most languages as i have seen in europe, asia and americas, people usually put a space or two after a period. but because you lacked a period in the previous sentence, you now need to add a period and then another space to accommodate the 'end' of the sentence then start a new one. i have no idea what language you may be speaking but seeing that you are attempting to communicate in english, you should use the period - two space device.
: 'surposed' is not a word. perhaps you meant 'supposed'- do not make your readers guess what you are saying with a spelling error.
: ' -there have no problem,' this also does not make any sense. you mean 'there has been no problem' or may be ' (you) have no problem?' who has problem? or should there be no problem? who is 'there' mentioned here? the way it is structured, 'there' is being a pronoun.

: ' -. You are supposed to pay for the return shipping if there is no problem with the jacket.'
there. it is marginally better now. though i am assuming that's what you want to actually write.

5. 'All of the jacket we sold are real,pls be patient,any problem pls feel free to contact with us,thank you'
: you only sold one jacket according to this fragment. or you do not understand plural vs. singular and verb tenses. it is either 'jacket we sold was real' or 'jackets we sold were real.' to add to options, you may be even be wanting to say 'jacket we sell are real' or even 'all of the jackets we sell are real', may be?
: dont for get your space after a comma. it would be a one, singular space, unlike a period, which would be followed by two spaces.
: no 'pls' teenage informal texting/chat garbage in business writing, ever.
: and another space after your comma.
: 'any problem-' you mean i can contact you if the gas prices are too high? or people are driving through red lights? any problem of what? of whom? this is vague and confusing. i do not understand why you want me to contact you in crisis that is unrelated to my business transaction (or lack there of, except the credit card payment you took). or is that what you are saying? or is this an incomplete fragment- fragment of a fragment, i suppose.
: 'pls'- please stop using this shorten form.
: '-contact with us,' using this verb here, you do not need to state 'with us,' it would be just 'contact us' with a space for your comma.

: 'All of the jackets we sell are real, please be patient. if there is any problem (i am still not sure what kind of problems, i am assuming with the order) please feel free to contact us, thank you.'

after deciphering your sub-par correspondence, i am writing to you now, to check if i understood it correctly- that you are refusing to cancel the order.
as a customer, all these errors in writing in addition of your lack of business etiquette/practice, i am once again requesting you to cancel the order, which would be a civilized thing to do as a legitimate company. please do write back if there is any further information you need to convey, however, i would highly recommend that you do proof read it so i do not have to waste an hour to fix the message itself to even attempt to understand what you wrote.

and please do not forget to include your name, position, employer and the physical address of the company as requested.

dr. monkey

whats more amusing is that 1. i got another reply
and that they have a new web address now.
http://www.canadagoosesaleca.com/

now another reply but with vast improvement on technical aspect of english, 19 nov:

Dear (monkey),
Thank you for you email and sorry for the delay.
We sent the goods within 10 days when we get the payment.
We have check your order and the jacket have been sent,it will arrive to you soon,so pls be patient.
Any peoblem pls feel free to contact with us,we will do our best for you,thank you!
Best Regards,
Susan

monkey reply on 20 nov:

to: susan with no last name, or alicia jame,
who still have not disclosed the official business information as requested
(your position, title, company name and physical contact information)

first of all, i am surprised to see that your communication skills have improved greatly over just a couple days (assuming that it is the same 'susan' i was communicating with so far).
but i still have to point out that it is sub-par in technical context and it fails to be comprehended as you refuses/ignores my request to cancel the order. which makes me believe that perhaps you are not able to comprehend any replies, despite your wish to communicate with the customer(s).

1. thank you for you email and sorry for the delay:
it is wrong: you email is just two nouns, which has nothing to do with one another.
i believe you may wanted to say: -your email,
as of my email that was addressed to you (whoever you are at the moment)
: thank you for your email and sorry for the delay.
*though there is no need to be sorry, as i was not complaining about the delay but was making a request for the order to be cancelled.

2. We sent the goods within 10 days when we get the payment.
your verb tense is incongruous in this sentence. is it in future or in present?
it is either:
: we sent the purchased item within 10 days of the business transaction. or
: we send the purchased item within 10 days of the business transaction.
and yes, you are sending me a 'good' not a multiple items, which i have requested you to not to send. but that's not a technical error, it is a syntax error.

3. We have check your order and the jacket have been sent,it will arrive to you soon,so pls be patient.
: we checked your order or
: we have checked your order
*though it is clear that you actually have not checked my order at all (why? because i asked you to cancel it)
: - and the jacket have been sent, it will-
: - and the jacket has been sent (verb tense, please), it will-
and dont forget the space after a period or a comma.
: - soon, (space) so please be patient.
* no informal contraction is ever appropriate in a business communication. i have mentioned this to you in last email, however, you are either not reading my reply or there are multiple susan(s) and/or alicia jame who does not communicate with one another within the company, or you are unable to comprehend my reply in english. would it help for me to get it translated to your language? that may be easier, i believe at this point.

4. Any peoblem pls feel free to contact with us,we will do our best for you,thank you!
: what problem? what of problems? i am assuming that 'peoblem' is supposed to be 'problem' unless it's a new word.
: if there is any problem, please feel free to contact us
*yep. once again, no contraction please.
*and as said on last email, not 'contact with us' but 'contact us' and yes, another space after the comma is required.
: -we will do our best for you, (space) thank you!
*but you are not doing your best for me, in fact, you have not done anything for me. what are you going to do for me at this point? i do not understand what it is that you are offering as a company to me at this point. unless you have no idea what you are saying or that you are saying whatever you feel like. either way, this is a problem for me. it should be a problem for you as well.

so here it is, i have attached last reply i had for you ms. susan(s) and/or alicia jame, of company that is undisclosed and mysterious, as you continue to ignore my request for your physical address and contact information, never mind the real name of the company that you work for, in hope that may be you are not suffering from amnesia or a mental stress that would have wiped my last reply from your consciousness.

i cannot understand what your replies mean- as it is clearly not a two-way communication yet your wording says differently. i am left to the lack of response from your side and i have no idea who i am communicating with and for what. but i suppose it is impossible to understand some mysterious things in this world. i have no faith to believe anything will be delivered to my address and only thing i can trust is that my bank's visa dispute department will at least try to to their job and get my payment back from you.

thanks for hours of frustration and inefficient communication.
i have never thought such level of business transaction was possible, to point of amusement which is slightly above anger and frustration.

sincerely,

dr m

credit card dispute dept says it will take about 4-6 wks to resolve. all i can say is that it's all so much more than i thought i was buying. will update when the next amusement gets delivered. november is a cranky month. next issue will discuss: stolen laundry basket. ooh dear. love to all honest people in this world! and bit more for my friends.

et in terra pax homínibus bonae voluntátis

2011-11-17T00:10:00.003-05:00

jacob's ladder, marc chagall

tis the yuletide (though it feels ridiculously early at the moment) in the western hemisphere (and part of east as well, i assume). the streets are covered with desires that is supposedly burning me at the very moment: gifts! services! for you! others! why not buy when you can!

when i was a little kiddie, i asked my father if i could have something specific for christmas (i dont remember what it is anymore), just like all the little kiddies who are aware of father christmas/santa. boy, the conversation was a bit more complicated than i have anticipated:

monkey: daddy, i want ___ for christmas, can i?
dad: you want what for what? (looking really confused)
m: (now sheepish) - no no, never mind.
d: wait, i just want to understand. tell me once again.
m: (quietly) i wish for ___ for christmas...
d: okay (pause) how did you come to that conclusion?
m: huh?
d: what is christmas?
m: jesus' birthday?
d: okay, so then how is it that you want a gift?
m: (gunshot through brain) oh! hmm-
d: i just want to understand
m:(sudden relief) no no, it's fine, i dont want anything!
d: wait, if you still want ___, you may have it, but-
m: no, it's someone else's birthday, never mind. i was mistaken.

i dont think he was trying to trick me. i think he was genuinely curious. at that point, i did not lose my innocence. i think what i lost was the false relation of christmas and gifts.

of course, gifts aside, there are things about christmas that i quite like. especially in ecclesiastical context. for instance, the four weeks of advent- the ritual of lighting of candles every sunday, from purple to eventually white (of course, of life, of innocence, completeness, etc). purple is a funny colour. it is also the colour of lent- the last ritual, the pre-planned and unavoidable journey of self-sacrifice. however, it is also colour of royalty. but the pink candle is the best- signifying that christ the messiah comes in flesh (gaudate sunday) and it already echos of his demise. without dying, there would be no miracle and no nothing. (a real reason why i dont like the blue candles used in some denominations- as blue bears quite a different meaning, of all hope and openness- not much dark things in there, really).

and how odd it is that we, as western collective, rejoiced the arrival of an innocent, who we knew we would kill? and how is it that we lost the meaning of sincere waiting through self-offered penitence (as we knew of death of flesh being inevitable)in lieu of rosy cheeked coca cola santa-
but back in the days when religious practice was more common, garbed in purple- of decadence and penance, what was it that people sought in advent? in praying? in their daily lives?

see, all this goes back tot he chauvet cave. book bomber, returning from his sabbatical journey (nevermind million concerts, he got to be a pianist and only that. we both know that he'll be covered in dust in no time in yyz), brought some interesting thoughts. including one that is non-verbal. a musical thought. and i could not help but to think: what are you praying for, genius man? well, it helped a great deal to realize that he somehow went back to the chauvet cave. it's his secret garden i think.

*and he's been so kind to let me post his thoughts here. thanks!!! :D
http://www.davidbraid.com/Chauvet.php

which then lead to golijov's dreams and prayer of issac the blind. issac also prays. desperately. as he would be a lost man, a lunatic without his god. golijov says in his prog:

... blindness is as important in this work as dreaming and praying. (i) had always the intuition that, in order to achieve the highest possible intensity in a performance, musicians should play, metaphorically speaking, 'blind'. that is why, i think, all legendary bards in cultures around the world, starting with homer, are said to be blind. 'blindness is probably the secret... whose who dont need their eyes to communicate among them... blindness..is then music as it was in the beginning: an art that springs from and relies on our ability to sing and hear, with the power to build castles of sound in our memories.

with such caution around secular and religious, it is easy to forget to see what it means to 'pray'. its root is based on late 13th c, to 'ask earnestly, to beg,' from old french 'preier' (c. 900) and latin 'precari'. so really, without the dogmatic approach to life, what is it that we all seek and ask for? im not being sarcastic. i simply am wondering.

in that chauvet cave, through herzog's eyes, those paintings werent of pleasure or showmanship. to me, it is the very seed of the verb 'to pray.' and the world prayed with it, amazingly- the physical world, by keeping it sealed, warding off any gestures of immediate gratification. the day that the first stroke was made on the wall, man was born from animals. to seek, to quest for something- and all we have is simple cryptic clues in form of cave paintings. of animals that have passed the time in utter silence and grand pause, holding onto passage of time, as if nothing and everything have happened. and the men who made these paintings- we will never know why but we do know what- he sought to express. what a gift, taking the risk of presenting private thoughts to uneducated audiences (who may think they may be beyond these simple paintings).

sir edward bunett tylor and sir james george frazer, anthrolopogists, goes as far as to say that earliest intelligent modern human practice would be the prayer. aha. no wonder book bomber's thought echoed so loudly in my head: a prayer. and of golijov, through the iconic blindness of issac the prophet: a prayer. of forgotten practices of christmastide: a prayer. a daily human need against the restricted and often contrasting condition: to seek and ask for relief/peace, a prayer.

we all ask.

what are we asking?

how are we asking?

http://youtu.be/vNY7oyDUMxM
with great cantor shalom katz abiding final good bye to the departed in this great prayer, i simply sink down to the nebulous yet comforting zone of 'seeking', which is not what i have planned for (initially i planned for evening of cheap entertainment through solitaire and television blaring on side) yet it is only natural, to pray. i may never find out what it is that i seek for. but the thirst, the curiosity will be there till the day i find it.

and to you all, courage to continue praying. and loads of love. in this demanding retail season of christmas coming.

echo of autumn warmth

2011-11-15T22:05:00.000-05:00

it is an unusually warm autumn this year. it's mid november and the park is now covered in the golden glorious blankets of life- celebrating the last bits of the summer, to remember and to cherish the last bits of the sun, of another year, 2011.

it is hard to believe that it's already 11/12 gone. perhaps it's because i am no longer chased by school deadlines. or being away from television, being haunted by the spirit of 'buying' (they conveniently want to call it giving, haha). or is it because it's too warm and too beautiful to think that the season of downward grace, inward to centre of the cold yet alive earth is already here?

i remember heading home two wknds ago, passing through eaton centre, seeing the great tree built. in the same manner a tower is built. it is a bizarre thing to look at- a mimicry of nature yet- so industrial and so appropriate for the artificiality of the winter.

may be that's what it is. it's the displaced weather. or the fact that all the lovely people around me keeps the spirits high and vibrant. i often do wonder what am i supposed to do with my life- as if i am supposed to have a great goal and run toward it without any hesitation. then i remember i dont really dig running. i rather walk and see little bits of life around the random part of the road. and though i am not doing anything significant in any objective manner, perhaps having the time to please my own eyes, hence keeping self always fed well and happy, keeps the winter chills away.

perhaps when the real chill comes to bite my nosetip off, i will launch self over the little water puddle and keep myself warm with real fire, in the midst of a wee house with minnow, with wee fluffies around. they are also small yet their eyes are bright and alive. how wonderful love is, it even brings life into quiet fluffies, patiently waiting for you to discover their hidden voices.

inconsistency of time

2011-11-09T23:33:00.001-05:00

though christmas is still a bit away, the stores are starting the sensory assault. in the states, at least they wait till the thanksgiving is over i suppose- but here in canada, right after halloween, it's almost expected to see all things red, green, gold and expensive. sigh. though i do enjoy the window displays, especially of holt renfrew bloor and hudson's bay on queen. so as minnow is in town, we decided to casually walk by.

though the soundtrack was horrendous (the tracks mustve been damaged, it was skipping and continue to be stuck on- but how would shop employees know that? they are inside! ha. the irony), the little animated figures werent as scary as i find them sometimes (i have things about dolls and human figurines. i dont like them all that much. fluffies are different matter altogether though). even bits of canadian history i studied for citizenship test came back to my mind, with wooly warm feeling as i saw the familiar scenes of (victorian) christmas and hudson's bay's involvement with early canadian history.

it is a curious thing, this christmas advertisement. every year, the display specialists try their very best to sell the newest trend and newest products, through evocation of tradition and history. and through looking at the nostalgia, one is supposed to be grabbed by the ankle, thrown into the frenzy of BUY NOW. as if christmas would expire and never return. buy it like there will be no more christmas. ha ha... bah.

and then there's another aspect of time and history- things that actually expire. i often carry one banana in my bag, as i get so side tracked, often there is no time to eat. though this particular day, i could smell the anxiety and worry in my bag- a hell of a ripen banana. the whole morning. but you see, i coudlnt eat it, as i knew that i didnt really have time to go grab food, which meant i was dependant on it to get me through the day, 8am till at least 3pm.

so i carried it with utmost care. no nostalgia or joy. just head full of caution. the last thing i need to do is add banana mash to mozart... or ibert... even lutoslawski doesnt deserve it. but came lunch time, it was eaten in a hurry. as if... i couldnt wait to eat it fast enough! hah. passage of time and the importance of flow of time is an interesting notion. how did your day go? how did it flow from wake to snooze? i hope, however, that it had some real love and care, from people who loves you dearly. even when one isnt aware.

what do you see through whose eyes?

2011-11-08T20:03:00.000-05:00

the boys are together again, wee and tee. looking over the forest of big tall concrete buildings, they wonder and talk about the grace of the big cities- when you are sitting tall in the quite morning, even the most grungy city street can exude composure and beauty. especially when it is shared generously.

wee and tee- how are they together? did tee come for a visit in an air mail envelop perhaps? aha, no. he decided to carry on a big trip, like a big boy. and just like wee would have done, tee came with a small travelling companion. minnow was there to encourage tee through the tedium of the air travel- and buy the tickets, go through the airport and the joys of security check, etc. oh what a man would do for the happiness of a fluffy.

this is a very short visit, just merely a week long. there are many things we would like to fit in. and then there is a full week of work as well- practice, learning, rehearsing, working, etc. it's always bursting at the seams it seems. how did we get so busy, being small people doing small things? suppose the derived joys from such activities satisfy all bits of our lives, hence making it even larger than life. perhaps busted seams are okay as well. that's what the seamstresses are for. or even a simple attempt at DYI. as a cheapo DIY fixer of various things (zippers, buttons, worn patches of pants, falling-disintegrating scores... the list continues to the next century i think), i now know that it can always be fixed up. usually better than before. as it is now soaked with love and care. yay. no longer brand new generic boring stuff.

and talking about non-generic, we were walking by china town, to have a small coffee at my fav cafe. and then all the sudden, we found a tiger, with a roar that deafen our ears. it cleverly disguised its voice through the assumed rumble of the passing-by ttc street car. it is a funny thing to find, in the concrete jungle.

wee and tee asked how dangerous the tiger was. we quietly said it's pretending to be harmless, but one never knows.

the world always gains more stories and imaginations when minnow is around. what a gift it is, to share a life with a person.

and of course, the random (yet may be not random at all) apparence of tiger! the eyes of an adult can then appreciate the beauty of the world through the eyes of a child, unguarded, unafraid and so free. finding freedom of king of a jungle in a city sidewalk is an amazing gift. i wonder what else i will find on these streets. and who also have seen these comic scenes of the day. but sheeeeeeh, dont tell the tiger, it just may come for a wee bite when no one's watching out for me...

oh why did you leave me?

2011-10-30T01:39:00.002-04:00

perspective 1:

0830: catch walk to school w PO in semi-sleep fuzz. locks the door.
0905: slugs down to practice dungeon with a hot cup of tea.
11-13: be amused when unexpected things happen with fixed score.
1420: WHERE ARE MY KEYS
1435: completes run of the day's trajectory around school.
1445: begs office peeps to produce miracle: my keys?
1446: downcasted eyes, asks librarian: (asshole) keys.
1515: grunts in frustration.
1630: explodes on housemate. takes hiskeys. leaves.
1745: in anger, decides to head over to gym.
1900: gets home. in defeat, picks up a takeout dinner.
1905: laments over lost keys over skype. keeps minnow up.

2400: WTH ARE MY DAMNED KEYS

perspective 2:
0830: locks door, gets snug in pocket.
0905: opens dungeon door. rare stay out of pocket. wheee.
1100: MONKEY?
1420: MONKEY?
2400: MONKEY...

luckily, keys and its careless owner was reconnect in total random incident. despite of desperate running around the school, the keys were not found because... well, a friend had picked it up as it was left in the practice room. a full day after, i decided after an awesome day (great recording demo sessions with two incredible friends and the dearest tonmeister housemate, a solid run-through for tomorrow's recital), as tonmeister was meeting up a friend, decided to do another takeout dinner. and there, came the emotional reunion:

YES YES YES
CAN I PLEASE AT LEAST BUY YOU A DINNER?

she had my keys. she has found it, quietly protesting in waiting for this monkey to pay attention in the practice rooms.

the lady gracefully rejected offer, exchanging it with a raincheque for a coffee and i skipped all the way back home. funny, last night i was thinking about this keys situation. i was trying to not to be angry. as it does not help the situation. it just worsens the situation- the worst being losing one's dignity, because one was- well, careless.

i was yelling silently in my head: where did the damned keys go? nuts! why would you bugger off, keys?

the truth was that keys didnt run away, i left them. and if they could talk, they would have called on me: hey hey mommy, where you going? take us with you! we like your pocket the best!

as i was still experiencing the after steam of frustration that i failed to dissipate, i kept trying to think about the poor wee keys, left in dark somewhere in the building, wondering why i left them all alone. they may have even wondered why i didnt want them any more. i hope that if they were animated, at least they wouldve figured out that i also like them as they have magic powers to open doors and closed things, that i do favour them on my pockets over anything else- even phone or wallet.

luckily, they were kept in company of someone, not left in the total dark. yay. at least they didnt spend the night in lonely silent music building.

so i was extremely happy to see them again, dangling and calling out in childish unisons: monkey! it's monkey!! yaay!! we are going home!!! so here we are, once again united, happily snug safe in my pocket.

then i chuckle: what a nutter i am. it was just a lost key set.
but if life gives you difficulties (rather, most of the time, people make their own difficulties), why not at least get something out of it? the sight of wee keys dangling on the ring, calling out for monkey in excitement is a very beautiful thought in my mind. aha. such a relief. what a silly life.

loner monkey plays in rainy evening alone

2011-10-27T02:48:00.000-04:00

die kinderspiele, pieter bruegel, 1560

it is once again well after midnight- 215am, eastern standard time.
the night takes the bustle of the desires and schedules away from the city, leaving it somehow pristine and neutral. of course, there are occasional sirens and car breaks, also a bit of random yells from drunken ryerson kids. but with the rain that soaks through the thickest sweater, as it permeated throughout the entire day and night, the accents of city night has been dimmed.

there are condensations on my window, i can hear occasional wind trying to blow through the smallest cracks of the glass- it is impressive how much dust i sweep on daily basis- the dust that rose from the ground and travelled all the way up to 32nd floor. this building started in 1971 and was completed in 1973 (same age as my bicycle), all 105m of it. considering there are only two more floors above this tree house, to say that i live about 100m above the ground could be a nice round-up.

from here, i see many things passing by- yes, i am letting it pass by and i am quite content. numerous parades, festivals, even protests. as a person who favours small gatherings, in a sense, it gives me a great vintage point to the world. especially when it's the single digit hours of the night.

i often am strongly admonished that i should be sleeping earlier- along with all the great advises. staying up late is a true vice of mine. the space that night brings us- the time and openness for renewal, meandering, reflection and concentration, i find it often irresistible to let it soak onto unconsciousness.

of course, i sleep much differently in various settings. in the little house in the hills, i am known to sleep early and lots, curled in spoon with my favorite minnow. often i open a book in bed, only to close it off on my face, already lost to the dreams that i dont often remember- and in the middle of neon pause, i feel as if i am desperate to collect the thoughts and fragments of the day that whizzes by so fast.

i may be a bit tired tomorrow, of course, but one cannot simply have everything one desires. i am glad to have a bit of moment to not be productive, to be 'decadent' in use of my own time- a play time, a time that has nothing to do with earning, working, serving others or being practical. all animals play, in fact, playing is probably one of the most important trait of true intelligence.

so here i am, playing by myself, quietly, as i did as a loner child, with all the small pieces of the day. i am happy. what a beautiful slice of the precious night, rekindled in simple need for a solo playing. love to you all, souls with twinkle in the eyes, the ones who still seek out the simplest pleasures.

http://www.ted.com/talks/stuart_brown_says_play_is_more_than_fun_it_s_vital.html

in the depth of winter, i finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer (camus)

2011-10-19T02:16:00.000-04:00

http://youtu.be/FPQNTDRgv64

the weather has turned just last weekend. today, i brought my cycling gloves out- as thin as they are, they will keep the wee fingers from the little nipping teeth of the wind, like hound puppies- not deadly nor permanent, enough to leave a dent on bare skin, as i ride in the morning and late evening.

the leaves has fallen and unfortunately, because of the loads of rain we had, there wont be a spectacular colours this year. or is it that i have missed the apex of the year- where life turns another corner, sinking slowly yet surely, each step closer to the heart of the matter- of the earth, of oneself, of individual hearts and honestly naked emotions. already in yyz, the daylight is shorter than twelve hours. the steps towards home are heavier and a bit more hurried as the days rush by, shorter and shorter.

i turned on some yuletide music for the first time for the upcoming winter. i am not so fond of the christmas festivities itself, however, i am very much in love with winter. it is demanding and harsh at times- in lesser times, people often threw end of the year party (one of the origins of halloween) before winter would take on the entire village by the full strength, leaving fewer and weaker survivors by the time the earth remembered that its role is to nurture, not to merely hold.

but i love the bare minimalism of winter. the extreme contrast of winter- the role of the preserver, keeper of life, of legends and memories underneath the wrinkled and frozen outlooks, makes my heart leap with unexpected joy- even a surprise to myself, in the midst of continuous grey and darkness.

not much left to the year already, 74 short days till another journey around the sun to start.

instead of the jolly carols, i open tracks from sting's recent winter album and pick out my favorites- such as gabriel's message, you only cross my mind in winter, the snow it melts the soonest, coventry carol...

i miss a few things as i ride on this downswing of the things- into the deepest slumber. but none will be lost. nor will be forgotten. i plant and replant the beautiful bits of my life, into the depth of the soil. i believe that they will all stay asleep, waiting to be awaken from the stillness of the frigid air. and they will continue their existence within my life, our lives, with each beating heart beat. especially my little brother.

i look forward to the gentle closing of the year, there will be quiet happiness, like little mice nestled in borrowed holes under the snow, blanketed by the crisp and clear winter night velvet. warmth. fire. spoons. love. generosity. grace. then another solstice, we shall all gradually move upward, onward. as we came downward.

homo spiritualis > homo politicus

2011-10-16T15:43:00.000-04:00

*chauvet cave prehistoric paintings

it's been quite an unremarkable week, coming from wk full of rehearsals, masterclasses, coaching and recording project. i even went off caffeine and slept proper, which magically eliminated most of the muscle tensions on my shoulders, yipee. though that confirms that there are no short cuts to living humanely- especially for oneself.

with a bit of extra time, ive been working on some music i have put on the side (project with minnow and some other things i just happen to really like), taking care of little things like balancing the book ( ! ), running surprise lunch deliveries, checking up on kiddies to see if all are alright, putting up posters for gigs, etc. and then came a surprise unpleasantness. you see, as a freelancer, we put up posters for gigs at the conservatories and universities, so that interested people may take our info. often, however, it gets incredibly low and some days you realize that someone has taken down your poster. i find this quite disheartening.

we work in music, of course, as cliche as it sounds, we do work in the field where our subjects are much larger than our little lives and that we constantly strive for 'better' part of humanity. so whenever something like this happens, i find it disturbing.

i try not to push myself against other people nor i try to undercut peoples' rate. the way it seems is that there are many people who wants to make a living by playing music, a far more than we could possibly employ, as a society. so competition is fierce. and because we tend to work with people on individual basis, often it is a healthy thing to remind self that one simply works not only with abilities but of humanistic ties we build with one another. of couse i would like to play more, but being able to play my instrument is only a very small part of the whole process. and there are enough people who are pushy about work- i know that there are a few who are brave enough to negotiate and undercut the rate.

i often wonder if that's what i should do.

then i feel either 1. completely useless (because it is against everything i hold important and to compromise self for something that is so fundamental seems to state that i have actually 'failed' to build a 'self') or 2. ridiculous (whoever ripped my poster off, i hope you got some satisfaction out of it- as clearly you arent exactly sane, happy nor financially stable).

perhaps i should schmooze and befriend these people and try to work up the ladder- be political, at core, one does live in a society! but then- it never comes to reality. i believe i should care for people because it is the right thing to do, not because it may result in some sort of personal benefit. once i start to see the human interaction as chains of bartering, i may degrade myself as a poor, unsuccessful failure.

i am nothing big. i am nothing special, just another human being, trying to strive to better self, to find fulfillment in my work, making my best efforts to be financially independent and responsible. and i better be happy with self, as no one else can do that for me.

as part of my other strategy to make a living, i work at the university as a backstage hand. i often get to interact with real, genuine artists and i do take pride in doing my things right- i dont really care if that means making sure that right piano bench is out for a pianist, running to go get a water for a greenroom guest- i may as well do it to the best of my ability. rarely but surely, this attitude does get me a big thanks. i didnt do it to be thanked for, but i do sure enjoy it.

and i also get to see these great shows- well, i dont get to see it but i do get to hear it, from the backstage corridor. yesterday, it was a great jazz workshop by mr. chase sanborn and mr. terry promane. i really enjoyed and got some important points for myself *to take home, though i am so far from jazz. the finishing concert with legendary wayne bergeron didnt hurt either. who is he? well, youve heard him-really! he's the guy who did the trumpet lick for the jeopardy show and other things such as music tracks for the pirates of carribean and the incredibles, etc. the house was HOT. and today, it's aldeburgh connection, a program entirely by faure and four lovely singers and the great couple, steven ralls and bruce ubukata. i think: i am loving the fact i am exposed to these wonderful things. and yes, i am getting paid on top of it. not much, but something. but that's only for my bank. i leave with riches, the haunting melody of regrets from faure's automne ringing in my mind- a small example.

http://youtu.be/lwnIu5CrVwg

this song, i first came across it while accompanying in italy. in the middle of italian grilling summer sun, it seems surreal to think of the waning autumnal dusk, full of yearning and hint of regret. and as i hear it again on the stage, a live performance, it brings all kinds of feelings- glittering gold leaves of falling leaves, of the lovely text by silvestre, beautiful melody and heart-breaking harmony, the fall into the middle of the winter- the point of silence, sense of 'leaving'... the list goes on and on. i think of my brother who is no longer with the land of living. of people who lost and who were lost. of lives that are older and dramatic than my own, of emotions and stories that is larger and deeper than young 'me.' collective human emotion sharing its depth of emotion so freely with whoever is willing to listen. the thoughts that i may not be able to arrive on my own for a long time, perhaps never.

i recently went to see a herzog documentary: the cave of forgotten dreams on bookbomber's urging. he rarely mentions anything twice so at third mention, i just booked a night off to see it. and yes it did something. i dont exactly know what. i may go back to it again. there were so many things that clawed into my recently defeated heart. especially in the middle, the anthropologist jene-michel geneste discusses the idea of 'human soul' so poignantly in this movie, as he relate to oldest paintings of man, forgotten till now then found untouched recently in chauvet cave, southern france. i wish i can get the exact quotation but in a very simple form:

yes, this is a true human soul. not just homo sapiens ('knowing man'), but of homo spiritualis.

http://ncronline.org/blogs/eco-catholic/cave-forgotten-dreams-work-homo-spiritualis

http://www.franceculture.com/personne-jean-michel-geneste.html

a man does not live with bread alone.

with such beautiful thoughts that keeps sprouting up on the most grim and depressing days- much like the lovely surprise mushrooms after gloomy rain, i keep my heart close to myself and to the ones i love dearly. of course life is expensive and demanding. and for some reason, i feel bit more dented than others on regular basis. it does make me wonder if i am just weak or invalid (especially when something stoopid like 'torn posters' happen) but at the end, it's always a full-circle, back to self. however invalid and not important i may be.

so here's another day. i am not financially much better today nor i have succeeded in becoming more powerful or desired. but just like yesterday, the day before, and many moons ago, i still have many wonderful things around me. and lovely people. the list goes on. i shall hold onto this fragile life-saving spidersilk rope carefully. much love to you all and i wish you all the most beautiful sunday afternoon on 16 oct 2011, as it will also pass by, in a wink, and never returns.

fagottklatsch

2011-10-08T06:55:00.000-04:00

i see that my last post was on 2 oct 2011. it is now officially 8 oct 2011 all day long and we, up in the north are already getting ready for the peak of the autumn (thanksgiving! who wants to adopt me for a thanksgiving dinner?). i was completely baffled that when i was got out of the subway last evening at 1900, the sky was already dark. not dusk, dark. oh dear, where did the time go!

however, it has been rather exciting week, evolving around bassoons, bassoon music and bassoonists. now you may wonder: HUH?

the average population may have heard the bassoon as the 'granpa' from peter and the wolf, prokofiev. it's a long big wooden thing with way too many keys (really, it does my head in), involves double reeds which are handmade through sugar cane panels soaked-cut-planed-trimmed-angled-boiled-frustrated-baffled-disappointed-hoped-god-knows-how-processes in a small corner of a room equipped with water boiler, lots of plastic containers, threads, tears, blood, sharp-very sharp-knife and hours and hours of turmoil. (q. what do you call a bassoonist with one good reed? a. a hopeless optimist) in fact, i think the protocol goes that if you have made THE reed, you will immediately start to mourn its upcoming death. everyone gets so fanatical about reeds and it is never quite right, from what i have seen (from students to professional double reeds player).

here, why dont you watch this 'shortish' clip in german (there's also part two), i thought it was hilarious and informative. bunch of adults with loads of bits of machinery. in fact i remember when my friend katie picked up a profiling machine, or shall we call it Aussenhobelmaschine, while we were studying in nebraska. we went to the dude's house and it is a beautiful machine- all hand made, to his specifications, solid brass- that thing was not a cheap toy! i really loved the way it felt on a layman's hand, as it was designed so beautifully. well, he did charge handsome fee and it did come with a tag: if you ever want to sell it, do get back in touch with me, i always have people who are looking for one.
http://youtu.be/RwgwVs41uHQ

i know this is for a clarinet/saxophone. i just liked the seriousness of the clip so much i couldnt help it... well, that was just for a single reed. now think about the complexity with double-trouble. prof. morelli, a great bassoonist, has a short clip (this time, it is short) where he talking about partial process of reed making (and if you want to find some more, i think the kind internet will give you more)
http://youtu.be/bVKylUjKeBc

like any double reeds instruments, it seems that one is at constant mercy of the reeds and their particular sentiment of the day. or even an afternoon. morning. there are bad reeds and better reeds but rarely a good reed... (dont even mention a great reed unless you have a full bottle of scotch to console) the principle oboe and cor anglais player of the bbc phil (who are good friends of me/minnow), whenever they go on foreign tour, the first thing they look for at luggage collection is the 'reed making bag.' now, the blue heron lady who i admire from yyz seems a bit more at ease with reeds but may be it's because i havent been around when she was making reeds, just a thought...

anyways. it's a big complicated instrument. i often look at woodwind instruments and it makes no sense in my head. even a trumpet is easier to comprehend. the keys. millions of fingerings. huge case. oh dear. i know they all make a difference but mostly, i contribute the success of a bassoon performance to black arts. it is a difficult instrument. i think most of the time, if you can actually hold one 'right,' you are already on the winning side of the battle. yep. complicated business to wield something so big that goes across your body, strapped on ( ! ), across the upper body. did i mention small water cup they soak their second reeds? (which is often described more like a bubonic plague than a messiah)

and after all that complication, there's the playing part. bassoonists, for some reason, they seem to be a bit older when they start on the instrument. i wonder if it has to do with size (i seen kids love BIG instruments like timpany and sousa phone but rarely a bassoon- may be too skinny to be impressive?) or somewhat obscure existence of its existence (for instance, kids know what piano or violin, flute or cello looks like. i think when you see a little kiddies at pre-orch workshop, they are more likely to say 'whats that bedpost?' than 'ooh bassoon, i love the bassoon! great bassoon solo in tchaikovsky no. 4, second mvt! ')

it is a primarily a bass-range instrument. like a double bass, it takes on a specific role in an ensemble. however, solo bassoon repertoire does have some great pieces and funny enough, i got to know them because i play with a few bassoonists- wherever i go. why? well, because i like playing with them (they appreciate any pianist who take their rep seriously, which is a huge bonus), dig the sound, love the role it plays (it's the foundation and woody inner structure!) and often the piano part/reduction looks like a total mess. and yeah, i do like learning them.

this week, the conservatory had a masterclass with mr. benjamin kamins. i was happy to show up to play with kiddies and play some, had no idea how that was going to- all i heard in the wind is that he's nutty. great, i havent seen a great person who isnt nutty. and yes, he was nutty. an hour and a half of constant challenges, lots of in-your-face-tactics, loads of demands and simple rules that one just couldnt ignore. and kiddies- well, with such open mind, they responded with all their hearts (i think this is something that's been cultured in yyz bassoon studios, with blue heron lady and other teachers, which is one of the best things to learn in one's life) and some of them had close-to-miracle transformations.

they sounded like different people all together. in that short span of time. okay, it wasnt an instant transformation but they WERE breakthroughs. of course, the aim is now to take that experience away and try to replicate on will. and we, musicians, luckily gets loads of time- lifetime, in fact, to work on such project. no one can possibly pay you for such self-interests. and the ones without the self-interests, well, they will enjoy their music education and go do something else (or they should, in the field they cant help but be self-interested). and there's nothing wrong with that! people go and spend their time and money on frivolous things like steak dinner for enjoyment. life is expensive and inefficient. so why not at least enjoy it even if that is not the 'sensible' thing to do? nothing really is sensible as the idea of birth is already obscured by the its side effect: death- i find this incredibly satisfying, a road to freedom, really. here's point A and there's point B. now you go from point A to B and do it however you would like.

!

this post is getting ridiculously long. i should at least to try to note the short points that prof kamins made. that was the initial thought but then how can you focus on a single thing when you have a fascinating subject like the bassoon? haha. anyways, here they are:

engage. oneself. audience. graciously offer/receive.

find something that you like about you(r playing)

if something doesnt work, try ANYTHING ELSE

do slow practice. not slow mo. slow-conscious-practice.

realize what you do with your body. after all, you are DOING it.
if that doesnt work...look above.

do look up for tips that can aid your playing:
reeds knowledge (he made it sound not like black art!)
inquiring/learning/doing extra things: esp. fingerings

the list can go on and on but these six points, i thought they fit so eloquently to life, not just bassoon. see, even in the difficult bassoon world, it's simple point that will carry us through, the weak and fragile, often lost individuals. it was nice to be there where such simple thoughts were reinforced (i have seen their normal teachers talk of same points but i suppose it does make a fresh impact when it comes from 'someone else,' haha) and the valiant efforts of the students (since one tends to take one's instruments almost too seriously, to try something new on a whim is not only difficult but daring) made my morning such a pleasure. i didnt get to play much but i was too busy learning, i suppose. im still kicking self for missing the reeds workshop (i would like to learn more...) but then i did have a brilliant work session with a young bassoonist (i am excited about our recording session on monday. it's going to be awesome) so- well, i guess no loss! lucky me.

it is not a right to demand education (i think one should earn it, after all, no one can teach anyone anything- one has to take initiative and actually do it oneself to learn) nor education should be free. we dont have any problem paying for 'things,' then why should one's non-physical presence/service be cheap? if knowledge is supposed to be the peak of civilization, should we really strip all its commercial values off of it? i think not. but that's for another post. the brilliant thing is that there are people in education who can elevate what can be a stagnant academic environment (more like sprouts farm) and they arent really doing it for a fee (how do you pay for one's entire being?) they do it because they do love it. they know it and they cant help but to inseminate it further.

and my friday was full of it. actually the whole week was full of it.
what a good week. even without turkey, i should get on thanksgiving.
brilliant world and lovely people, thank you!
and kiddies, you were brilliant!

and there's no reason to stop being brilliant :)

surprise, it is... october! (what?!)

2011-10-02T01:50:00.000-04:00

the days are running away, faster than the fading sunlight of the mid autumnal afternoon. nights are melting into a silvery oblivion, elusive, vast yet so quick to pass by. it was only a week ago, things were hot, humid and hazy- baking under the last heat of the indian summer. tonight, the city is full of people, walking the streets in the name of arts, nuit blanche, under the clear sky with a children's-book-perfect paper moon. the sudden cold that appeared on the road just yesterday and fastened buttons, hands in pockets, hats and caps, happy to appear again to the outside, from the long summer sleep in the corner of the closet. the morning bike ride that results in stiff arms, chilled through that usual short ride to the campus. sudden thirst for a mug of hot tea, steaming vapours, of the stories of high summer sun, captured through little tea leaves. huddled shoulders and shirt collars turned up, to stroke little goosebumps that autumnal night wind created on back of still coppery summer skin.

there are many stories still untold from september. shame, i still have couple posts that are in the works. of the places i went and the people i met. of the stories and human contexts so generally shared, with pleasure and grace. of many thoughts and small sparks of life, through the very mundane everyday things- the mental stimulation of practice, the pleasure of making a beautiful sound, getting hang of the fiddle- literally a fraction of an inch at a time, i can say that i am a bit better (shame i dont get to practice it everyday!), as usual, expecting too much from self and others, new projects (including teaching little kiddies), the list goes on and on. oh yeah, and also doing a knee-plant, falling off my bike in front of the dean, as i was in rush to get to class. so classy, i know.

and of the constants of my life. of daily exchange- often pleasant and often controversial, around people in my toronto bird nest, high up on 32nd floor, as much as the stories of friends who are weaved through the invisible woolly fibres of chinley, told through the magic window from minnow. of my parents, of my granny who recently had to relearn her route to the doctor's (but now she's made an appointment and went/came back successfully on her own, not bad for a lady of that age who doesnt speak english and with fragile knees), of my wee brother who pokes his little head out at all sorts of in/convenient times.

of unusual things- stressful situations with multiple choice exam that only lasted five minutes yet ruined an entire week, of found images from the corner of the streets, of intersecting friends while crossing borders and oceans/continents. of unconditional love i receive from my dear ones.

these are my story and perhaps it does not matter to anyone else. of course, why would anyone care about what seems to be a perfectly normal and inconsequential events of a small individual? well, i do and i do it because it gives me immense pleasure to be involved in everything i do. and often, there is no time left at the end of the day to write or doodle about simple daily events, i am too busy to fall asleep, feeling slightly regretful that i have to wrap up a perfectly good day, to sleep.

tomorrow is another day with a meaningful project. working with a young person on a seriously (difficult) piece of music in preparation for a recording. it's been a noisy process because i couldnt help (once again) being myself and wrote lines and lines of 'let's do it properly' email. i think i probably have freaked her out already. but how it really will be, no one will know till tomorrow. and in order to do that, i would have to cut this post short and go to bed.

would this crazy cycle ever end?

ah, well, i certainly hope not. i remember talking to a friend once, about boredom. i am a lucky man, i have not felt 'bored' in a long time. contrastingly, i have felt the urge to not let things go, to take another look, to take an extra stab at things, just to see if i could do /enjoy it better. i often wish the day is longer, as month of september just evaporated in front of my own eyes. but it is silly idea- i will still manage to fill out the days, to the absolute max, glass that is almost too full.

all these things, i am grateful. for the people who have helped to create a world where i, a wee person, can exist as i am (though being politically more savvy and diplomatic would help me in long run, much more efficiently than being a straight shooter i am now), and that i can enjoy being just another person, unremarkable and rather plain, in the world that can be too much at times. but now, to sleep, this person. because tomorrow is an important day. why? because it's another day i get to dive into. full-throttle. yay.

before it is too late

2011-09-30T02:03:00.000-04:00

and before everything runs away from my little head and heart, here are few images from september. oh how i want to expand on every single one of them. wait. you many not want me to though, haha!

of beautifully inquisitive yet certainly individualist cat who lives with dear friend in nyc. i was so lucky to get to see her before another season of mayhem ensues (she's touring- best wishes! for rests and sanity...)

pleasure of taking slower tempo than the reality. propeller planes can be so organic, who knew?

a small scene near my gym. i have no idea what the white said to black, but clearly, black wasnt feeling indifferent after that.

the dear citizenship test that i was waiting and dreading for. more on that later. it was a quite an experience.

magic shop lady. i wonder what her story is.

a typical nyc nut scene.

atypical yyz nut scene. long life 'difference' and 'similarity.'

a-compaignier

2011-09-18T23:14:00.002-04:00

etymology: accompany:
early 15c., from M.Fr. accompagner, from O.Fr. acompaignier (12c.) "take as a companion," from à "to" + compaignier, from compaign (see companion). Related: Accompanied; accompanying.

i do all kinds of accompanying. the one i rather like is accompanying minnow to the grocery store to pick up delicious things for dinner. i wasnt aware until this summer, but i also like accompanying my friends in happy occasions like weddings and long hikes. i may even prefer my job title to be 'accompanist', not a 'collaborative pianist,' as the second title is very specific and somewhat restricted in my head- though the use of such term came from the misunderstanding of the word 'accompanist,' which simply came to mean 'someone you can blame for bad performances and must to exactly what the employer musician dictate, including such minor details as high or short heeled shoes and weirdly coloured shirt.' i suppose i just like being with people and doing stuff we like. how sophisticated is that (NOT)

last year spring, i put up some silly poster for gigs. and i do get rather specific calls- i suppose i did put them up in a music university. most of it concerns professional musicians or music students; i do consider music students professionals anyway- if you ask them, on their credit card application, i bet at least 75% have checked 'occupation-student' option. then their occupation is student! a music student. a professional. just on the other side (paying for training vs. paid for being trained/apt)

but once in awhile there are more unusual and interesting projects. currently there's one that's very dear to my mind: mr. max. max is not a professional musician. but he is a musician. he studied the double bass back in greece and at certain point, he picked up a new professional activity- he works in a science-related firm, i think. but you see, that never stopped him from being a musician. he listens, plays, enjoys, cares , practices and loves double bass-tradition-diverse disciplines-electric bass- new things, i mean you name it. it is so inspiring for me to get to know someone who is so open and alive, even at the tender young age of- well, i never asked him his age, but let's say his hair is silver coloured.

he initially contacted me to accompany him for a vivaldi sonata, so that he can record it. i wondered: how old are you, what is this for, what is your commitment and how would you like me to work with you: dictator? together? collaboratively? zero preference? the first meeting, i was very curious. in fact, i was a bit taken aback about how little i know of this person and how different he could be, as i dont usually get to play with non-professionals.

we still meet on sunday mornings. i, in fact, missed him quite a bit while i was away in uk, as these sunday meetings are really valuable for me. he comes, sets up his instruments and recorder, gets his score out and i, usually panting, running into the room, simply 'play.'

what's so remarkable?

well, he really cares. he records the entire session. he listens to them through. he archives the sessions. and he gets better. this week, he really blew my socks off. it was just SO MUCH BETTER! what did you do?! you play better than most of these kids who play the bass as 'pre-professionals!!'

he simply said: well, im trying to incorporate what we work on. i went to the piano to check my intonations before i played my bass. i looked up the notes, etc...

whoa.

the man spoke with such humbleness and open mind. and what he did was a perfect practice model. and he not only practised, but he played. every single time. he never stopped being a musician in that whole week. he lives a quite an active life, in fact, he's playing with his greek band for a wedding next wk (so there'll be no sunday session for us, boo) and it is so clear that he is a simply a happy man.

i wonder how long we will play together and what kinds of things we'll end up doing. i wonder what he will keep from the experience of working with me. i wonder if he's enjoying it as much as i do. i dont wonder about whether he'll get better. he will.

simply because he loves it.
what would be 'it?'
i think his 'thing' is 'life.'

there are many others who i love playing with. people who i love playing with so much that i would simply be happy to be one of their accomplices. and this man, max, is quite special. especially because he is a non-professional musician. of the best kind: the real, genuine, living and open human being.

thanks max, for brilliant sunday mornings.

i spy- no no, i love-

2011-09-18T01:24:00.001-04:00

wee paper puppy, born this spring.

i recently broke down and converted to so called 'smart' phone. all it has done for me yet is to prove how smart 'it' is and how much i may start to depend on it...so far i only have installed a few things and am staying away from social networks and games. the email access and free tools- metronome, tuners, GPS trackers (a great fun while on the bicycle for commute) are funtastic. but the best thing so far is-

fxcamera.

it's been out for awhile and i have been seeing it on other people's photos. a few pre-sets and a portable camera. and there we are. a way to capture fleeting images of all things of life.. and luckily there has been a couple beautiful images that i like. and a few silly ones.

i wonder what people do with these smart phones. i wonder if more people take picutres, like i do. i wonder what things capture one another imaginations and what is kept and what would be deleted. what memories it would bring and how it may be- would it be like flipping albums, where you flash back into the history, or more like a perfume, where one can start to sense it from far away, the intensity changing ever so slightly as one approaches to the core point.

i am grateful that i get to see and find all kinds of beautiful things. i am lucky. what have you seen today that is beautiful and took your breath away? sending many thoughts and well wishes to your way, friends.

wee rabbit being a darling. he wonders when i will come to bed and snooze with him.

a small piano reconstruction shop. with an open invitation to...?

and within 5 minutes, seriously, another invitation.

HA HA

im sure that the bench is out to lure new members.

i can only think: detention and punishment.

corner chair with the dunce hat.

beautiful bird and a genius man = magic

monkey at your disposal

2011-09-12T01:41:00.000-04:00

ahem...after much deliberation and tootling around, i finally come to a point wheresummer has ended and the new autumn, well, fall semester must begin. andbeing a freelancer i am, it's always a bit tricky to find out how to 'market'oneself. do i become serious? cheap? expensive? funny? exclusive?inclusive? there are so many ideas and so many tactics, but i have to stick toone thing i know...

be what i am and be good at it.

often i wonder whether ishould be a bit more louder in what i do/who i talk to. self-promotion isone of the most wealthy traits that one can be born with. funny enough,some people do it naturally and then there are some who do exactly theopposite- put oneself slightly down. why would that be? well, i supposethere are no repetition of colours even in the basic twelve colours crayon set. i tend to joke about what i have done and i dont think it does anyfavours (in comparison to being all serious and business-oriented), yet i canthelp but to laugh a bit about what i do. yes, i do have a doctoratedegree but you see, i still am very happy to move chairs and piano around thestage.

but i am going to try one new thing this semester: to be seriousand honest about the work i do. it's enjoyable to poke fun at oneself and i doquite enjoy making often brutal comments about my own affairs- certainly incanada, as we tend to be a bit more modest than, say, americans. and thisself-deprecating humour is a rather peculiar thing, as no one has thelicense to be more brutal than- self, yes.

remember? only the blackpeople can say the big N word- anyone else, even when the blacks dont mind,would be slapped on the face by some political-correctness-insanity. iget a real kick out of calling self a banana, or even a twinkie: an eastern asianwho is fully white-washed. haha, i can imagine a few flinching at thatexpression. but see, it is sarcastic yet... accurate. it's likeself-round of the comedy central's infamous 'roast' *check out this url. theyoutube link is my favorite comedian (RIP) giraldo roasting joan rivers...brilliant.

http://youtu.be/m_HUoJzEuIM

i often think of my wee bro. and my granny, whois unlikely to keep on living (she is 86 this year) - we never know how it'llall turn out. life is a fragile thing and because it is so fragile, it involvessome level of frivolity. luckily i work in music. i think as lifecontains much humour, being a bit frivolous with self is a healthy side effectof being a musician. i can only be who i am. only i know the best of myability at a given point in time. and i do hope that i bring myself furtherand further, as every single thing i do, it has potential to add- and tocreate, ignite, provoke and combust (BOOM)

but there's the silly point- a few people i know are very goodat self promotion and let me tell you, it works very well for them, like adependable amplifier. so here it is, my self-promotion. i hope that ifnot gigs, it would bring a bit of laughter, even a smile. music, beingwhat it is, is impossible to set a objective value. i always enjoyworking with others and i can only hope they also enjoy working with me.

though ive been known to rather be demanding (in preparation,punctuality) and that there has been occasional quarrels- but it's because icare... well, if they didnt enjoy the process, i can at least say that i didgive a fair shot, as much as i can. and being myself, i cannot completelyuproot the silliness- but what is life if not a frivolous ride between birthand death?if you need a pianist/harpsichordist/organist, imay just be your monkey. seriously. do shoot me an email and i will bethere. enough of advertisement- the important thing is that even if you dontneed a musician, i do need friends and family. so here is my love, goingoutward, as i am constantly enveloped by love, flowing so easily and graciouslyfrom my dear peeps.

*now to shameless advertisement:

greetings and salutations everyone!

hope summer was smashing well and that everyone's excited about the new semester starting soon. just thought i would send out a short hello and also let you know that my (questionable) company can be yours for a price! *insert evil laughter.

i am currently on accompanist list for the utoronto and GGS (which means GGS students can convert their accompanist budget into monkey grocery bill!) and i do throughly enjoy difficult and unwanted things, including:

reading from full-score *i play for prof. harcus' orch lit class for brass/winds, filling-in from full score

making impossible reductions to sound 'tolerable' *such as jolivet trumpet concertino; i make good cuts!

very old music *i do read figured and unfigured continuo

shifting bench to harpsichord or pipe organ *i studied these seperately for years...

repertoire for all instruments, including a-bit-awkward-ones such as viola, trumpet, bassoon...

contemp music *even when they look 'black'

and last minute fiascos *i learned martino cello sonata 1 and strauss cello sonata in a week last sem... for a recital

but i also do like normal-pianists-preferring-accompanying music, say, violin-cello-flute (okay, let's put back viola, trumpet, bassoon...) repertoire. i would also love to do some more vocal accompanying, which i never had enough of...

it is all very silly but true. i do like playing and i do enjoy the challenges of each project (though i hope it wont be too demanding most of the time). but it may also be of your interest that i am also available as recording engineer. i currently work with peter olsen @ walter hall, utoronto as an assistant and i do have access to decent gear. do talk to me into recording your next application cds...

of course, i can be at your event voluntarily BUT

should you ever be in need of a keyboard monkey,

(or when you, the pianist, are running out of standard 24 hours/day)

holler up! i be glad to be involved in your- or your-associates' projects.

and after all, we only do this because we love what we do- music!

impractical, money-draining yet... oh... so... satisfying...

good luck everyone and see you around soon!

im quite inept with phone, but am good with email and texts :D

a dirty quick sketch of august summer days

2011-08-30T01:55:00.000-04:00

oooh british summer pudding: ice cream cones and jelly babies!

jelly babies... well, they didnt really see it coming i suppose.

a bit of schadenfreuden as the pretty car gets hefty parking ticket.

i was lucky that rich man didnt get to rip my head out...

visiting new and old: visit to luthier stoppani @ chorlton,

along with old friends who came to visit to the hills...

very happy birthday minnow!

i bet no one made such bonkers cake for you.

YET.

awesome steam engines. we had couple more rides this summer.

including a very very small wee one,

fed coals teaspoonful at a time. hehe.

beautiful chinley home. at this point one may be slightly sweaty.

but whats the worry. it rains half of the day by default. haha.

many walks taken with all kinds of friends this summer.

thanks guys, for making chinley part of your summer.

our summer.

851 vs 10106

2011-08-25T00:43:00.002-04:00

my wee brother and i were always 2 years 2 months 20 and 2 days apart. it was often a matter of fact for him to give me list of things that he wanted- he would say 60% (3 out of 5 wish list things) could be rounded up to 100% which really ticked me off (as i have not gotten anything from him in recent years! haha).

i have numerous curious black-blue dots on random points of my body. hands. elbows. calf. even on the middle of my back (right behind my heart, it was described). he once asked me what those things were- i wondered if he was trying to be cute. 'of course, it's the pencil marks.' he looked at me with a slant, trying to figure out which part of me was the mad bit; alas, i had to remind him that thanks to brothers, i am covered in remarkable constellation map of some random universe, lovingly marked by my own flesh and blood siblings, each hand done with a sharp pencil. and of course, there was no silence but a insistent denial of such episode(s). year after year. to the point that may be i should give him 'one' to remember.

every time i crossed the ocean, i used to pick up a carton of fags. even after i have stopped smoking (though i would glad to go back smoking tomorrow if i were terminally ill and had only a year to live. i would be a proper chimney). that was always for the kiddie bro. of course, i refused to give them off as gifts, i did charge the duty-free prices, however, it wasnt such a bad deal for him, as he saved about 50%. the endless trail of lighters found in his room after his death confirms his dedication to fags. ha ha! i wonder where all those lighters went- i put them into a box then next time i returned to mom/dad's, it wasnt there in 'his' room.

i remember him saying that next time minnow comes over, we gotta take him to a proper good restaurant. and though it was exciting, that usually meant that he would 'drive' us and i would 'pay' for all of us. but i wouldve been happy to do it. in fact, eating was so important to both of us. minnow thought it was hilarious that we devoted so much concentration on food. but the first and last meal he did for us at his old work- a proper 10 courses meal (5 courses each, but all plates were different, hence 10 courses) probably would easily be the best food i ever had. not only well-done, but also done with love and pride. he was so happy that i was the first one of the family to have eaten at his work, not just a la carte, but doing the proper tasting menu.

funny, i had to look at my google calendar to realize that it happened in 2009. by 2010, he was already gone. and now, 2011.

what a weird feeling. it's been over a year already since i lost my wee bro?

not only a year-

2 years, 3 months, 30 days-

851 days, the kind web date calculator reminds me,

wee bro has been buried in my heart. and the gap grows.
every day.

10,106 days, we lived and barged into one another's life.

sherazade would have told her stories,

10 times fold for those nights.

she would have grown old and mature,

beyond her beauty of the younger days.

by 10, 106th night,

shahyar would have grown fond of her slack skin,

as he would know every single one of them.

engraved in his heart through his fingers.

and as small wee ordinary individuals,

we also shared stories, him and i.

and also of smaller sagas we collected individually,

often heated and puffed up, like wheat puff cereal,

larger than life.

but thats the best way to tell stories,

with personal flair and a bit of sprinkled embellishment.

and today, 851th night without the living wit of wee brother,

i am attempting, with great sincerity,

to put a sprinkle of gold speckles,

fairy dusts to lift my mind,

through the heavy thunderstorm and proper tornado warning,

just to see if i can tell a story of an ordinary kid,

a brother, a son, a friend,

a love,

buried in my heart,

beating beating beating beating

through the rigid boundary of so-called reality.

i love you wee bro.

prom 37: brahms violin concerto a la 'chopsticks'

2011-08-12T20:14:00.001-04:00

... so came the last night at the proms and now minnow is ready to enjoy his summer holiday. ive been lucky to head down south to london to see the bbc phil strut their stuff in the royal albert hall. now i am quite well educated about the good pubs around south kensington (though one needs to forgive the fact that rich people generally dont want any beer consumption past midnight, hence calling for last call at 2315 or something ridiculous like that-) and the train-tube transfer from st. pancras to gloucester road (which never makes any sense when one is trying to pronounce it the way brits do). yesterday even included a thrill ride on the cab, direct from train to rbh, as we booked wrong train ticket hence was running the risk of being late for the concert (gasp)! though, i am happy to inform that rather than paying over 100 quids for new sets of tickets, we were able to get away with the murder by tipping the cabbie generously at max 15. score!

it's been an interesting experience. for a (former pop) festival that is over hundred years old, it's got much blood and interests that runs through the capillaries. for instance, on the first day, i was told with great authority that mere mortals with day ticket hopes to the arena (the floor where everyone stands up) must stand on the west side of the staircases, not the right- as the east side of it is reserved for the season tix holders. as i tuck in my tail to go stand on the 'correct' line, i was taught in a tensile manner about 'doing it standing up.' it includes the details such as getting the raffle numbers and not leaving one's spot for longer than twenty minutes. ooh and also some serious musicology lectures, and about how i should take music more seriously. these people DO take promming seriously (though some of their musical preferences can be quite amusing)

example: one of the proms opened with beethoven symphony no. 4. i was desperately trying to remember anything useful (as i have played the beethoven symphony cycle couple times for conducting classes/etc) when the fellow 'promers' have bombarded me with question: what do i (possibly) know about beethoven 4?

i could think only two things:
no. 3 is eroica and it rocks,
no. 5 is fate and it rocks.

how am i supposed to remember beethoven 4 when it has NO TUNES at all? (it's all elaboration on chords and progressions; second mvt sounds like schubert and fourth sounds like stodge mozart) (it is rather that poor twin who totally got slammed by the other twin in the womb, as 4 and 5 were written simultaneously) well, (obviously) if i were to taken music seriously, i would know it. haha! some of them were impressive in their collective knowledge- with referential recordings, conductors, orchestras, even track length!

it included things like similar lecture about ravel's alborada del gracioso (i was almost hooked on the chin by saying that it was written for the piano- hehe; the piano version was completed in 1905, then parts of the suite, mirors, were orchestrated not only by ravel, but also by others, including the aussie mofo percy grainger. i thought since they are likely check their facts 'later' when they get home, i should lay low), or how rachmaninoff's best music is for the choir (i was ashamed that i didnt know much about his symphonic choral music, but i think his piano-related things are darn impressive, usually...). the list goes on and on.

i suppose if i were to tell them i am a professional musician, i may have been treated a bit differently (as they were certainly more congenial when they realized that im with an orchestra member), but what would be the point? i was excited to stand the entire concerts (with ice cream breaks during intermission, which i have not seen in canada! or states!) with the crazy enthusiasts- as it meant that what we do as musicians do matter, and that with such close-to-blind-dedication, the state of arts in general society isnt as bleak as we (the classical musicians, who now have to share our pot with other musicians- jazz, rock, hiphop, trance, you name it) often like to cry about.

yes, the bread is now spread along larger group of people with so much more diverse interests. the great days of patronage and cushy unionized ensemble gigs may be far gone but things do change- (millions who occupy now empty historical textile or mining towns of any G20 countries, or even recently, the auto factory workers of north america, would agree, surely) and unlike bolts of cotton textiles, culture, though it may be difficult to pinpoint exactly, does matter. yaaay.

though with such enthusiasm, there can be a disaster or two. or even gross misrepresentations. bad presentations-yes (the rachmaninoff prom featured a particular russian soprano who was compared to a vibraslap, thanks to her comical phrasing and vibratos wide enough to drive a train through. though you had to see her side-cutout-diamante-jeweled-breasted dress, complete with waving gesture for the public which could make the queen blush) (none of us could figure out how she got there. the guardian described her as 'astonishing' and i dully agree... perhaps she had a rough night?).

the hot potato in my mind after last night's prom is even more amusing, as one of my favorite violin concertos, brahms, took the centre stage, but with... a pianist. yep.

when i first saw the program, i wondered why my education have neglected to inform me about brahms third piano concerto. i felt zipped. cheated. fooled. i only have a phd in the damned solo piano.

well, mr lazic, the pianist, apparently couldnt help it but to arrange the concerto for piano and orchestra. so there it was. his reasoning was that since brahms composed from piano and the parts were then consulted by his dear mate joachim, the composition essentially can be reverted back to piano music, with enough merit to be taken seriously. okay mate. i can see your point. as he points out, few great works, such as numerous bach and vivaldi string/wind concerti exists also for another instrument, notably, for the keyboard.

i really tried to not to think 'how it could be' till he started to play (after that lovely introductions from the orchestra). i thought this was hard. till. i realized.

shit. i better not fall over laughing on the floor during the concert.

now,
that's effort.

i think there's something innate about herculean struggle (well, closer to man than god i suppose) in brahms' music in general. often it's too big, too loud, too soft, too many sharps/flats, too long, too many repeats, too f*$*ing difficult- it's music that requires more than what one would give 'nicely and willingly.' all musicians that i know struggle on regular basis with brahms. difficult man. it's just like the way he treated the women he loved (clara schumann being an exception, of course)- just like a little kid, he would pick on her, be rude to her, ignore her, hoping that she would pout and pay attention to him. and why should we be expected to be treated any better, haha!

and then he (rarely) rewards the musicians with this incredible contact with humanity (now i sound really frilly and dodgy, but it's true...) and all good things about being a simple human being- with emotions, feelings, history, state of being (though you may be close to cursing than smiling, sipping tea while playing brahms) and thoughts into the future, of course.

to believe me, you only have to check out szeryng doing the brahms concerto 1st mvt, at 8:27, he is a monster with that triple stop business. i mean... anyways, if that have tickled your interest, also feel free to check out the third mvt, which has more difficulties than juggling fire acts on unicycle, with stilts on, while saving babies from drowning.
http://youtu.be/OlIEbBcXT_U
http://youtu.be/lB0UeWKRpLg

see the problem was that by sitting on the piano instead of standing stout with violin (and keeping brhams' orchestral parts, i think this may not be based purely on artistic vision, but to make this 'thing' more accessible to conventional orchestra so he can go and get more contracts), the initially great concerto became a grande comic caricature a la chopsticks for intermediate level pianist.

i am not into pushing difficult music as better music. for your info, i am a great fan of 'white' music of arvo part and i do enjoy simple things such as 'clapping music' of reich. dang. i think bach inventions (of two simple melodies, one for each hands of the keyboard player), which all pianists learn as kiddies, are the one of the best things ever written in the world.

i do have a problem with taking a 'heroic' piece and watering it down to cocktail muzak. double and triple stops on a violin is fiendishly difficult. in fact, joachim, the killer popstar of the violin of his day, writing to brahms, urging to change the solo part (due to difficulty) says one thing: this is no small fry.

playing two and three notes on a piano simultaneously isnt all that impressive- i mean, i bet everyone who's by a piano can strike out couple bars of chopsticks, one finger per hand, no problem. so there goes the spirit of the piece. it's like dumbing down picasso's blue period painting into a single blue colour patch from a paint shop. surely one could do but one wouldnt expect an acknowledgement of certain nature? (most likely people would love you for your sense of humour at this point. 'johnny's very clever, haha.')

in addition to sucking the life out of the solo violin part by reducing it to a kindergarten music exercise, the 'adaptations' were very pale efforts to reflect anything brahmsian, i thought- in fact, more chopinesque than anything (and they dont share much idiomatic similarities in piano writing). then by filling out the piano parts with filigree in conjunction to the original orchestra parts, it just sounded like a reduction- how do i know? well, that's my day job. i play one-man orchestra for instrumentalists at universities and music schools. my job is to reduce the orchestral parts into two-hands job (with one-monkey-paycheque). at least he couldve made the adjustment to the orchestral parts (but you see, then it makes it 'less accessible' to the conventional orchestra, which results in 'fewer' contracts, possibly.)

but i still have to support (and do) the idea of new things and innovative spirits. in fact, it is inevitable that a good thing will always be tinkered with, as it already possesses great quality and that attracts AND inspire mere mortals, like us. and mr. lazic. i do get to play wonderful music, some of the best stuff from the entire western civilization- i mean, who am i to play mozart? but of course, music needs to be played and listened, to be enjoyed and even little punters like i can experience great joy in it. that's what makes great things great.

*seriously, i know. i am making some horrid noise on the violin since i have received one last week. it's a funny thing to think that the satisfaction of gaudi designing sagrada familia may be the same human emotion as me playing one round of 'little brown jug' without making my friends runaway in frenzy.

but because it is a share thing, this artistic expression, one must be responsible for it. put your name on it, especially if you are going to insist on its existence and its relevance to the world.

this work is no brahms piano concerto no. 3. at best, it may be called 'piano adaptation by mr. lazic of brahms violin concerto, with original orchestration.' it's very naughty thing for him to take someone else's last name. i bet mr. lazic senior may even be a bit pissed (would he start to question mr lazic's mother and look up her diaries in effort to find a dashing man with last name brahms? well, i think it's a certain possibility... one knows one's mother for sure, but fathers- hehe.)

though i may be mistaken for mr. lazic's sincere enthusiasm, the situation makes it difficult to avoid the sense of false modesty. after all, those fiddle/keyboard concerti of bach and vivaldi were done by bach and vivaldi, not mr. jones or... mr. lazic. so we do say '- by bach/vivaldi,' for both versions. if it's done by a punter or an enthusiast, we do put the names of the one who is responsible. just to clarify. it's a similar case to mahler 10- mahler died before finishing it and so someone else 'finished' it for him. and we arent talking couple bars- we are talking majority of the work being done by someone else, and rightly so, some conductors wont touch the symphony, though they do conduct the adagio of the first mvt, which was completed by mahler. also mozart's requiem- do look it up, mozart died and sussmayr kindly completed the work, conveniently losing the 'sketches'which he worked from. urr...

look, if one didnt know about the violin concerto and its character, i think it was 'okay' music. the arena promers clapped in enthusiasm. who am i to say that their enjoyment is invalid because the adaption has lost the spirit of its model and that wrong last name was put on the credit? i am not concerned about that. heck, not every work presented in proms can be great (case and point to the russian soprano), and it does not needs be.

but i do think if one is so involved and attached to one's work, they should owe up to it. including giving an appropriate title. if you arent brahms, you shouldnt sign it brahms. i am a bit lost to think what to think of mr. lazic's effort. but perhaps his first piano concerto in work would redeem his shortcomings- whether it be artistic one or a simple inability to connect appropriate objects and ideas, like putting square pegs in square hole. it's amazing what one may remember from the proms concerts. feel free to leave your two cents! much love to all of us, all different yet simple human beings- curious, opinionated and alive. long-live-humanity!

organic cereals and london burning

2011-08-10T10:48:00.001-04:00

tuesday 9 aug 2011, fire on property, surrey (lewis whyld/PA)

when i first went off to live on my own, i remember being rather surprised that many people of my age (late teens) didnt know manage practical aspects of life. never mind cooking actually, they were clueless to go to a real shop, where unprocessed vegetables (with dirts) and meats (with head and feet, etc) sit on the shelves and fridges, waiting to come home and celebrate their lives by becoming beautiful and nourishing food. many of my friends flocked to the conventional north american supermarkets, where everything has been packaged in plastics and boxes, with many stickers and labels to qualify themselves as food items. often they talked of buying a plastic tray of (biologically engineered, massive) chicken breasts, however being still bit queasy about the idea of touching dead flesh and eating 'meat' whilst munching on frozen organic dinners. somehow, their food wasnt related to food matters, furthermore, their food also consisted of food that claimed to be something different than what they are.

i remember being completely confused by people who would bring their coats and jackets with missing buttons, asking for 'alterations,' to reattach the buttons. or friends who didnt realize that putting more laundry detergent does not give you cleaner clothes but rather suddy ones.

almost religious stance with buying organic cotton clothings that traveled across the oceans several times rather than buying a second hand clothing because it created less damage to the world.

replacing still-working televisions and fridges (though dated) to brand-new energy saving models and calling the removal service to trash their old things.

insisting on driving to organic farm to get the 'clean, pollution-free ' steaks, not realizing that dinner of a good beef steak just doubled their crude oil consumption.

buying fresh organic 'wild' green mix instead of local fiddly lowly cabbage? very often one picks up the pkg without realizing that it couldve traveled across the continent to get to the consumer. which is worse? no one knows.

recently i was rather amused by a very strongly positive comment on organic certified breakfast cereal. gluten-free and certified organic! must be great and tasty! i wondered if one have taken a look at 'who' these organic companies are operated by, as often they are subsidiary of larger industry giants. not to mention the amo of processing that went into compensate for loss of gluten (would you rather have naturally occuring wheat protein or added xanthan gum and cornstarch? i think it's a tough one, unless you actually have gluten allergy, not you 'think' you do...) about the industry costs of processing and refining gum and cornstarch? ouch, head...

getting coached to wash clothes often with enviro-friendly soap by an enviro-nazi is another funny one. bit of dirt never killed anyone but have they looked into how much resources are required for each washing and drying? i think repeating a shirt couple times is really alright, unless you sweated self through the shirt. a common sense would dictate a good test with someone else's nose (if you can find a willing dude)...

of being confronted by PETA as they chew on silently screaming, still-live carrots, which i find hilarious.

looking for organic stuff while nearby shop stocks things directly from local farms- though they still cannot afford to pay the organic-certification governing body (it could cost up to 2000 USD/yr for independent producers) also creates an interesting issue: what does one buy with what kinds of decision making?

i am splitting hairs, really. i have no rights or status to criticize or condemn others of their actions. at certain point, i tell myself: well, at least they are making efforts.

but does it really add up to something that is better, at the final sum? i am not so sure.

with all these things in mind, i wonder where we have slipped as a society. we now have citizens who holds rigid value system, often mashed and interwoven with artificial frame of moral values- as result of confusion of two similar-looking yet different words: co-existence and co-dependence.

uk is burning at the moment with silly riots. silly in a sense that the rioters are mainly into causing mayhem rather than proving a point (if any). it's bunch of angry children out having a 'good time' by smashing shops and taking things. of course, the seed of it all was supposedly well-intended and violence-free, organized protest. but once the windows broke, the flame spread. from london to everywhere- liverpool, manchester, birmingham, you name it.

i think these things are all quite closely related. with very simple explanation. we are forgetting to contextualize and see the 'real value' of things. the rioters are looting, grinning with their five new pairs of new runners, though making a gross stereotypical judgement, none of them are likely to go for a run for health reasons. because they arent able to see any value in their lives or themselves, it does make it a 'good time' to go smash windows and take things, which adds instant values (which are then just as easily lost within couple weeks). we are convinced by the 'media' to look for labels and qualifiers, to rely heavily on some private governing bodies to provide us with 'quality' products (hence give us 'quality) and easily associate feelings of superiority with our actions (though in real life, all we are doing is to buy more exclusive, expensive products with not much difference, unless, of course, one had taken a good look at the value of the product where one can be happy with- which is a bit different than buying the 'happiness' and 'satisfaction.')

it is so easy to adopt labels and values presented by others. there simply isnt enough time or mental power to set a contextualized values for every aspects of life. one would simply not be able to get on with anything. so we all pick a few important points, so it would make enough sense, to give oneself enough satisfaction and self-worth to continue on a bit further. and to remember that for every single decisions that took efforts, one have decided to forego other issues. even if just for now.

a life that is worth the time requires time. and a satisfaction is usually not restricted to a tight boundaries, which is amusing and amazing at the same time. and no, i dont know of anyone who would become genuinely happy with new free television. i do understand that i tend to be surrounded by particular breeds of people (ie. university educated, arts-sympathetic, etc.) and that there are loads of people who are so far from who i am. and i chew on the fact that by the end of the day, i am nothing better or worse. we all strive for the same sets of emotions, though the context of those emotions may vary greatly and the means to achieve them in even greater variations- whether it is through looting or consuming globally traded organic food.

and boy it is a lucky thing that everyone can be so different, as there could be nothing left to enjoy if we were all the same. though, today, i feel rather mixed bag of emotions for the people whose lives have became cheap and/or simple (cheap enough to be reprimanded through simple action of purchase or looting) and wonder how one may restructure one's value systems and ethics to be at peace.

for what it's worth, here's bits and pieces of monkey love to the world. as a poor monkey with minimal material possession, i think offering of affection is pretty kick-ass. unless, of course, you can buy me stuff. especially if it is carbon neutral and organic.

a late letter for july

2011-07-30T06:14:00.000-04:00

when month of july approaches, a particular subject starts to stain my mind. a bit blue and a bit rusted, the thought grows, drinking on unshed tears. i wish to be easy, laugh and tell you happy birthday, give you a hug and a bunch of flowers, just like the way they do on television.

realistically, here i am, writing and erasing, dropping pencil and picking up a new pen. taking another new card then soon to fold it in half, starting again. a pile of discarded attempt. am i being too complicated? or such subject naturally requires such efforts? i cannot tell anymore.

so here it is, your birthday greeting, way behind, dripping into the lateness of days, weeks. but perhaps it is all alright. if it creeps up, like the weeds in the most attentively tended garden, may be it needs to come up, breath, live, even when it may be an inconvenience, like a lone dandelion in pristine green lawn.

you live a hard life. busy in the middle of the bustle, especially with your husband and mother- a mother, who simply became your own, rather than being folded into a social grace of 'in-law.' the customers from the store. your own kiddies. you live a life of a iron man. an iron mother theresa.

i wonder if you have lost yourself in the middle of the maelstrom. though i have no courage to tell you so in person.

i cant fill in the space gabe left you. i dont fit into the space you want, as i am molded in a different shape, much like a sqaure peg for a triangular hole. since ive left home, i remained and fostered myself as an individualist. a reactionary, a mirror reflection of you, an altruist.

i have left you with friction burns. of small scars and cuts, from sharp exchanges of words and looks. i have put in the big nails on your heart, the nails that shuts and dents the shapes of your own self. i slammed them on with my own weight. my own life's weight. your heart is no longer just cozy and warm, as it once may have been, before us. it's alive, warm yet i see the scars i have left on your heart. and like the heart, the scars move and breath, cracking and healing, like liver of prometheus.

i can no longer claim your heart as mine. i can no longer ask a piece of it easily, because i have trodden on yours, with iron hooves of mad young foal, running, running, running.

but like a foal, i do look back and i do come back.
near you, not daring to be with you.

i wish i can tell you the things i wish to tell you.
uncomplicated.
impossible.

the simple truth may be that i love you.
as a daughter, i love my mother.

tired, worn, sick, aged. you barely have enough to make to your hairdresser once a month. you have to make time to see your acupunturist. your own flesh, you want to hold and mold, but this individualist always moves slightly to the side, insisting and expressing quite different world. so you have to stretch your limbs out, as far as they could go, to hold me and also to hold our differences, which spills over our lives.

the weight of your young one, sunk to the bottom of your heart, buried on cold ground, out of reach, regardless of how far you may stretch your tired arms.

i am nothing special. no fancy name cards. i own a few frazzled things, which holds only a sliver of value for others. without ownership, i float like a feather, here and there, going where i want to, leaving me not much to offer to you.

i find it hard to call you. i find it impossible to give you my love in little chunks, though all i want to do is to offer you bits of my love, as if i would offer you a free dip in my pocket, probably full of candies- nothing grand and nothing precious.

but i do carry you.
in my heart.
i do believe i am blessed.

you are my mother.

i cant dare tell you.
it takes me ages to write to you.

you are disappearing under the weight of life.
beauty, laughter, time,
you need them.
you dont have them.
you cant have them.
you are busy and worn.

you do carry bits of me in your heart.
even when your heart is packed with demands of life.

like a gold mine,
you keep knocking pieces of you from self,
digging deeper each time,
sending them out to the world,
knowing that you wont have them
once youve share them with others
leaving you less each time.

that's you, mother.

and i love you.

hotter than the smelters of gold mine.

nourishing in alpha road

2011-07-28T09:43:00.000-04:00

lamb chop with anchivy-tomato sauce

cook (n.):
O.E. coc, from V.L. cocus "cook," from L. coquus, from coquere "to cook, prepare food, ripen, digest, turn over in the mind" from PIE base *pekw- "to cook" (cf. Oscan popina"kitchen," Skt. pakvah "cooked," Gk. peptein, Lith. kepti "to bake, roast," O.C.S. pecenu "roasted," Welsh poeth "cooked, baked, hot"). Germanic languages had no one native term for all types of cooking, and borrowed the Latin word (cf. O.S. kok, O.H.G. choh, Ger. Koch, Swed. kock).

There is the proverb, the more cooks the worse potage. [Gascoigne, 1575]

i think while i am in my english greenhills home, i spend majority of the time doing something very specific: cooking. i spend the most time physically in the kitchen (which gets the lovely late sun till the dusk and since it's been recently scrubbed, it's even more pleasant to be here). i often walk to the local shop or the next town to pick up random groceries. the chinley shop, the one and only general shop in the village, sells most things with a bit of premium (understandable, it being a small shop) along with their daily changing specials: i think they are overflow stocks from local farms and small independent sellers as they come in crates and boxes, with ridiculously low prices, with no solidified planning/specials. and yes, these specials often determine what i would cook.

poor small fishes, ready for grilling

another thing is being far away from the city centre, it makes more sense to actually cook many specialties at home, rather than making a tedious trek to manchester for (in my opinion, as a spoiled toronto food enthusiast) expensive and not-so-authentic ethnic food. though the local pub in the next village does excellent beers and great food (if you make it before 9pm that is, which sounds easier than done)- their fish/chips is one of the best things i always look forward to when im coming back here.

the city life in toronto makes it rather difficult to cook the same way i do here. the abundance of cheap (and good) options to eat out and the bother of hauling groceries on bicycle, up the elevator to 32nd floor, the boringness of my grocery store ( the nearest ones are either metro or rabba's, not brilliant), time constraints, conscious effort of eating healthy (for self and roomie), all these things usually led to nutritious yet predictable variations on a few themes: brown rice/pasta, a bit of meat, loads of greens. as much as i would like to vary the cooking pattern, it is quite difficult!

growing up a transplant of asian descent in north america gave certain advantages, a few being useful and practical (ie. work ethics), along with a few built-in indulgences (learning how to cook from mom/granny). during my grad studies years, i was lucky enough to learn some seriously authentic cooking techniques from many different people- especially for latino food. and yes, it is funny in a sense that i can still whip out more authentic chinese food at home than in a restaurant in manchester. things that were learned through mealtime and through heart, i am sure. a well-made food certainly does more than just providing calories: nourishment.

behold, bacon-fried egg buttie!

we had some really nice meals here in our kitchen, whether it's between minnow and i, or with company of local friends- and this year has been rather colourful, with great summer bounties, chinley store specials and a couple trips to the ethnic grocers during frequent trip to manchester during dr. dee days, the tag-along city days with minnow (in studio, working, haha). and yesterday was a particularly nice one, as we were able to create a nice evening not in 3 alpha, but in good friends' house. since steve had a freak fall that involved open-leg surgery, minnow and i thought it would be lovely to do something nice, like a dinner. however, him still recovering from the surgery, we thought it may be nice to go to theirs to cook and eat, so if steve wants to pass out after a meal to sleep, to heal, it'll be much easier.

so around 7pm, with a bustle,we brought a few things in the car, to do roll-your-own sushi (called temaki), some fat okonomiyaki (fat savory japanese pankaces) with kaiso soup while the young daughter had the comfort of home to entertain herself rather than being tied to the dining chair. and last but not the least, a bottle of moet from damon albarn, for the last day of dr. dee production for the manchester international festival (minnow was leading the pit orchester; what a talented and diversified man)- if steve did not fall, he wouldve gotten one himself anyways, but unfortunately he had his accident and was not able to play his cello- instead, he was quietly recovering back at home, in haze of painkillers and fatique. but at least he is recovering- so why not share such nice gesture from damon with even nicer people? (moet was actually quite nice, thanks damon, a bit rounder than my usual veuve cliquot). the night lasted well close to midnight and it was so nice, to be able to share and present something authentic and unsual (for here in rural uk).

day before was a bon-voyage dinner for minnow's offspring no. 2, as him and his gf are heading to poland for a shot vacation with his mom. knowing that they are game for pretty much anything, we did thai red curry, with loads of veggies and nice stock. the plates were polished with eagerness and yes, there really isnt anything like clean plates for satisfying a cook. yay.

making some veggie inari sushi (in tofu pockets)

it always takes a bit more resource and planning ahead to pull of kitchen stunts here (for instance, to get some sushi rice, it took us couple trips to different shops, finally finding some in manchester, not in any local shops). and i do find it amusing that i do make many eastern asian dishes, though my own heritage food, korean, making the least number of entries. i would like to make more, but the scarcity and rarity of korean ingredients makes it difficult to do so. most of the time, korean foods in 3 alpha has been somewhat modified. oh how i wish i could make some authentic things! haha. at least the audiences have enjoyed every bit of the food.

when i was younger, we always ate as family, with plenty of action across the table. sharing. bickering. then as i got older, i learned to enjoy food- and the process of cooking. as not-so-wealthy grad students, we always threw resources together to make feasts of all sorts- getting around to get cheap yet good ingredients, teaching one another how to make and eat food from one's own culture. so in a sense, not just the meal itself, but cooking has became a sort of nourishment for everyone involved. and i am glad to continue that in chinley, as there is something really exciting while describing and teaching cooking tips so simple as making soup stocks (clear dashi style) to seasoning rice for sushi. it's not just about consumption and nutrition, but of important human social behaviors- communicating, sharing, gathering, expressing. and i will always be thankful to my mother and granny, for sharing the importance of learning how to cook and the importance of sharing.

crisp salmon skin for making temaki

if you are ever in the area, let me know. let's break some bread and roll some vietnamese rice paper rolls. we could do some chipotle chili pork ribs or make some korean noodle soup. what a pleasure to eat and to share!

picturesque summer

2011-07-21T05:57:00.001-04:00

*roses from treasurer's house, yorkshire

the summer is running away it seems- how does it do that? when i boarded the plane to cross the puddle with PO, i swear that it was going to be long-drawn-out-summer-thing- but here we are, on 21st of july and im only barely making a dent at the blog. thank the lord for digital photography. what would i do without it- except for making stuff up all the time? haha. anyways. so i had a great birthday dinner, a sunscreen allergy that robbed at least ten days out of me (it was... brutal; clinique sent me a cheque for 17.50 for my suffering. ha...), thoughts on manners and amusement over mother-daughter relations.

*i was a bit unhappy about that.

is that it for the long, restful summer?
well, then there were:

visit to chatsworth with PO and minnow

local walks- yes, sun does come up once in awhile,

though there seems to be no clue WHEN

the steam train ride on matlock line,

museum of industry and technology in manchester,

mediacity salford visit with peter and a light-music concert

(is it me or the cinema tracks getting real hot recently?)

day out in sheffields and a pint at 16th century pub at edale,

threads orchestra yorkshire tour (i was the groupie who sold CDs and collected the surveys)

day out in Llandudno, conwy, welsh cost

dr dee production for manchester international festival by damon albarn of blur/gorillaz (and minnow leading the pit orch)

visit to denmark to see my dear japanese sister

some awesome meals in the kitchen of 3 alpha

then... today.

there also was a concert at the small church building of st. mary's, down the road, where i murdered jazz tunes in public for the first time (at least it was classy. i opened with le grand tune: you must believe in spring) (at this point, i must surely believe in spring as summer is not happening; thermostat is set at 20'c and it's been on- ha...), but i forgot to take pics. there are some audio archive which i listened and cracked out laughing. perhaps one day, i will put it up as well. somewhere. once i can actually do jazz without thinking about how tragically it gets bluer and bluer.

it is a bit terrible cheat to getaway with such short summary, but at least i do remember and i do continue to enjoy my lazy summer. this wk, it's down to london town to see some concerts- yep, prom season. i never been and i am quite excited. shortly then i will have the company of mr bearcub and his lady from the continent, bit more proming, and a dear friend on gut string making a visit, to round out the arc of this trip- surrounded by people i love.

meanwhile, there are some news back in home, including notice to get biometrics for the citizenship paper, some late cheques arriving home and work arrangement for the fall etc. i am grateful that i could have such a contrast in my life- working 14 hours days then to have 14 days (or more!) off. it is always a bit hard coming back, from long, demanding grind to- open space. quiet. still, even. but i am enjoying the quiet groove of the open sky. even when it's full of rain. much love to you all!

manners, manners!

2011-07-06T09:41:00.000-04:00

recently, there has been much noise about etiquette- personal and general. the international sensation withers-bournes was an interesting one, however, unfortunately there is no shortage of manners regardless of location and population. perhaps it is impossible to underpin why social grace is no longer considered important while everyone, the average joe, knows and gets angry when one perceives lack of 'respect' from another, regardless of the cause.

there are several occasions in recent years that had grated my nerves to raw. fortunately most of them does not involve massive collisions of personalities. or is it fortunate? often i feel the most difficult situation is the one that you arent directly involved: there is nothing one could do but to endure. a former friend who has turned uncivilized, for instance, had created much drama and tears (in 'lack of consideration for her feelings' while i have repeatedly asked her stance and feelings before making certain things public) and after a year of brooding, once congenial relationship is now stuck at a point of avoidance. i dont really understand what she's thinking but i expect that she feels uncertain (and because she is unwilling to acknowledge any wrong doing, even when the basis for poor behaviors were solely based on her emotions rather than any facts or social protocols), i will be avoided for any interaction that may last longer than five minutes. awkward? yes... what a waste of time- we could be friends for all those times and the days to come.

and then there are the usual: i want and you will respect me by giving it to me!

at which point, the whole system of social protocols collapse. the most interesting part? one cannot reason with an insane person. for every proper lunatic/fanatic, a different world exists. and by definition of lunatic/fanatic, there is no other way to even discourse through the differences. it's a mad situation because there is no resolution available but to ignore the lunacy itself (which makes them even more upset).

often one is held to society's standard (ie. dont punch someone in the face) not because they believe it's the right action (yes it is not right, but 'i' still want to punch in the face) but because the penalty exists ('i' may be arrested for personal battery case, or even punched back worse). it's a coward way to live, but at least that keeps one out of trouble (of magnitudes one cannot even foresee). one does not have to agree with the protocol personally, however, in context within a society, it is a selfish AND altruistic gesture to abide by general rule of manners.

i suppose bournes-withers case went viral because it crosses many taboos: the in-law family dynamics, socio-economic class differences, breach of respect for privacy, etc. many people have noted their 'disgust' for the mother-in-law: stuck-up, old-school, oppressive, etc. yes, she did make two mistakes, in my opinion. one was addressing this girl through an email; if you deem her as uncouth as she is, why even use an email to communicate? a serious correspondence in snail mail wouldve been more appropriate for the points she was trying to make- and email is too easy to pass on (and leak out). the second point is that you cannot take a point of superiority if you have indeed 'sunk' to 'her' level. if MIL wanted to discuss the lack of grace in DIL, please do so, but one must retain the same level of grace that one preaches about. soon as she mentioned pity for her son, the game started, i think.

what of all the points MIL made? i think they are all valid. and silly thing is when one is trying one's best (to please), one does go beyond the usual call of duty and one should. if DIL knew that MIL has unreasonable expectations for manners, DIL does not provide minimum compliance in order to please- DIL should go beyond the usual protocol. and yes, this also applies to MIL though she failed to reciprocate- hence everyone claiming her to be a foul, evil person.

manner is a funny thing. one learns about it and one expects it. it is one of the few things that is easily recognized in its absence. it usually occupies the place for 'extra' in life- ie. if you are a clerk at a store, you are expected to be competent and then maybe 'nice.' i already see people shaking their heads in disagreement: no, monkey, clerks are supposed to be nice!

actually, no. people are paid and reciprocated for their tasks and responsibility. a clumsy and unhappy clerk gets paid the same as the next one with bright smile and greetings that is pleasant enough to clear the most rotten sky. shocking isnt it!! and yes, we do assume that they ARE nice by default.

or that they should be.

and there comes the discrepancy: if manners arent expected, why are we expecting it? well, simply because we all like to be treated nicely i suppose. tis called 'golden rule': one should treat others as one would like others to treat oneself.

the difficulty comes in when one is not contented, hence, a bit shaken and jarred. when situation is good, it is mighty easy to be nice and courteous. it's when one is unhappy or displeased, that becomes immensely difficult. suppose the killer point is that because one is unhappy, one must take extra caution to be courteous to the other party, as one now has the need to resolve the problem and hence return to the happy state. and yes, it is difficult.

often it is difficult to to be nice at times, especially when it is an expectation and unrecognized. because one has been treated nicely however without the disclaimer, often they cone to expect it. so rather than being thankful for the extra revision, one simply ignores it, not because they may be bastards but they are unaware. at which point, a rude awakening may be in order to restore the value of the care that has been taken place. though that may involve some screaming and brooding...

aaah manners manners manners. like toilet roll, we only miss you when you arent there. but boy, just like the peace of mind that comes with that ultimate roll in the cover, it is always necessary AND nice to have bit more manners than to lack a bit. so here it goes, another rant. thanks for reading and love to you all!

http://news.sky.com/skynews/Home/UK-News/Mother-In-Law-Email-Carolyn-Bournes-Stern-Etiquette-Message-To-Heidi-Withers-Goes-Viral/Article/201106416021513

my unconsciousness is a $hit skit writer

2011-06-28T15:56:00.000-04:00

the other morning, i apparently woke with a sob. i thought i was rather waken by minnow for no good reason at all- and to add to confusion, it seemed that i was teary. what on earth? well, it was a vivid dream. one of those that you are completely immersed in, without any sense of 'sleep,' where it becomes more real than real.

i cant exactly remember what was going on, but i tried to collect and remember as many things as possible, as it left me feeling a bit sorrowful.

i was driving somewhere in a car, with my dad. we were at the intersection near my parents' house and somehow, while making a left turn, we got T-ed by a passing red car. so we all got out of the car and started to pour out individual frustration- for some reason, we were on way home and we were late for something, mom was supposedly waiting for us. then a bizarre thing: a spot light came up from nowheres, i initially thought it mustve be the police light, as we were blocking a huge intersection of 3 lanes each ( ! ) but boy, i was wrong.

that light was supposedly from a ufo. yep. this is the point i shouldve realized that im in a silly dream and that it will really have nothing to do with anything else really (often one could tell that they are in a silly dream, no?) but in this case, it made all sense, actually i wasnt even sure how it happened really, but i assume that the light was from a ufo, as we were instantaneously transferred to another physical location, what looked like an airport lounge. boring sofas and florescent lights and such.

and then all the sudden, the dudes who were on the other car just started to take their jackets off- not only the cloth, but of what appear to be a make-up faces! (i love how one's unconscious can be so creative while hitting every cliche there is)

alien 1: well, at least this time, the stop was short
alien 2: i know, it really was getting a bit tedious-
monkey: excuse me, what is really going on?
alien 1: urr you are a local, what are you doing here?
monkey: you tell me- you made a crap turn on red then-
alien 2: dont worry about it, it's all fine.
monkey: what's all fine?
alien 2: the captain says that this is the last time we'll be stopping here for a bit
monkey: stopping where?
alien 1: see, earth always has been a money-losing stop in the cruise-
monkey: a cruise? what the-
alien 1: yeah, weve been doing this ship work for a while-
alien 2: and earth is always problematic, especially-
monkey: wait, okay, so you guys were just stopping by and-
alien 1: yeah, we were trying to get to the pick-up point then-
monkey: ah well, okay but you see, we need to get back-
alien 2: well, urr i dont think that'll happen,
alien 1: captain was saying that we wont be back to earth for at least 20 years
alien 2: and we would hardly miss it really,
monkey: but you dont understand, my mom is waiting for me?
alien 1: well, seriously, there's not much we can tell you.
dad: - shit. fine. screw it then. (flops on next couch, flabbergasted)
monkey: i dont think you understand,

I NEED TO GO BACK
MY MOTHERS WAITING FOR ME
SHE ALREADY LOST A SON LAST YEAR
I HAVE TO GO BACK
PLEASE ANYTHING I WILL DO ANYTHING

i buckled down to my knees and start to bawl.

then i woke. only to be completely lost- and tasting the salt of my own tears. what a confusion. minnow was holding me, gently soothing: everything's alright, what happened?

i have no idea. perhaps a dream is just a dream.

ive been busy tagging along with minnow to various things- bbc concerts, new dr dee tech rehearsal for manchester international festival (minnow is leading the pit orch, which is pretty awesome) which opens soon, and the latest, series of six concerts of threads orchestra (jazz fusion band minnow plays with; they do some wicked music, check them out, im not saying it just because he's involved in it, serious). in fact, we were staying over in the little town of burnsall, as part of yorkshire tour.

whenever i see a roadside monument, i think of my little wee brother. it's a habit- i dont think it's necessarily bad, but the fact i cant help it kind of bothers me.

helping the band out with surveys and cd sales, striking the sets and etc., has been alright but i did start to feel a bit weird- as if their tour started to accentuate the fact that i am a musician who IS NOT playing at the moment, which makes me take a second look at my own identity: if im a musician and i am not playing, what does that make me? anyways... on that, i will be back to practice shortly i think (yay), with renewed self interest, which is a necessity.

i didnt get a chance to call them on sunday, ive been trying to call twice a week but with tagging along, often i miss the time to make the calls (thanks, time zone difference), and i was starting to feel a tad bit guilty for not calling. of course, i could easily say: they can also call, buggers.

the truth is that they would have, if they could, i believe. me doing the things that they cannot comprehend makes it impossible for them to reach out to me actively- but at least we are on open communication now, especially after loss of gabe. if it is excruciatingly difficult for them to call me, then of course, i should call.

and perhaps that's where it all added up. aliens- well, i suppose there HAS TO BE some element of comical surprise in a random dream. heh. what's even funnier is that on that airport lounge-ish place, there were other 'cruise' workers passing by, and some of them were actually my friends who have worked for cruise lines (they even waved! how silly)

with the salty awakening, i felt a bit empty. i miss mom. mom must miss me. family is a difficult but a very real thing. important aspect of one's life. i always wonder if there's better way to speak to my parents, especially mom, who is a major softie- only if i was a bit softer, things could be easier. and i am making my best efforts. and there it was, in middle of this silly mental fiasco, a simply whacked dream:

i will always return.
i am a daughter. i belong to a family.
i do love-
alive, a bit far, little difficult, but nevertheless,
warm and connected,
gone, always close to my heart,
no longer conflicted yet a hollow point in my heart,
always present,
i love you.

not even a penny for the thoughts

2011-06-20T16:04:00.001-04:00

in the days of 4G networks and smart phones, communication is becoming cheaper by the seconds i feel. i am still holding onto my old school motolora phone; there are times when i am super tempted to upgrade to the fancy android phones, but somehow i have managed to avoid such splurge YET. i try to do most of my communication through email- thanks to god, email format still seem to cling onto some old practices as proper addresses and closing/signatures and stuff, unlike the shorten txt gibs. but you see, you need to be on the network (hit he panic button) and it does seem rather convenient to be able to check one's inbox couple times in an hour ( ! ) - during the peak season, i did lose couple gigs as people have replied with lightening speed (through phones, of course) and i thought over and over about conversion. but suppose im still 'considering.' how unfashionable of me!

so why such cling to old conventions? well i do love snail mail. once in awhile, i will get something in the post- letters, postcards, even small pkgs ( ! ) and boy, it feels so much nicer than another email. i still like to go to post office and send off one-liner post cards and such. often i even take the risk by hand-writing my letters. and i am somewhat irked about the cheapness of the fast communication. things like twitter makes no sense to me, as it is directed to all people, hence no one in particular, and unless you have been aware of the previous chains (and keep up with later chains), it hardly makes any sense at all, which means people are often trapped in this texting loop. help!

and also because i have a one recent (well, if you can call it that) memory, which i will never get to make it up for. last year, when my wee bro was travelling, he was keeping taps with me through emails, as he knows how allergic i can be with phones. i usually turn my phone off once it starts to ring. but one evening, shortly before his crash, i was on skype and the phone rang. i glanced to look at the number: gabe. i casually thought: no probs, i will call him back. and he texted right after: will be in touch tomorrow.

there was no tomorrow for that text.

often i see younger kids who takes their raw thoughts with gusto of whim and confidence, sending them out at lightening speed without thinking of the consequences. especially when one is angry. beside, i think we are all aware of 'drunk' text/calling... and we all think there'll time to make it up. with pride, often one goes on, pretending and assuming that things are always going to be okay. except it may not be.

since gabe's last text, i always jerk to check my phone when it rings/vibrates. i may not pick up the phone, but i will always check as soon as i can. i never got to call my wee bro back. and whenever i see people throwing their thoughts in the cheapest way possible, a small corner of my heart rings in loss-

wee bro, im sorry i didnt pick it up.

ah, how i wish i have given my thoughts the right prices for them.

temporary ugliness

2011-06-15T10:22:00.000-04:00

on fourth day of this absolute insanity-inducing urticaria situation, i think the angry blistery uprising has gone down a bit (or im just used to seeing my face bubbly at this point) though both my eyelids are puffy and heavy with unwanted fluids. what is my skin actually trying to fight against? i have no clue nor am a smidgen bit amused anymore. beside constantly sitting on my hands (to prevent from scratching), only other solution seems to be stay 'cold.' ho more luxurious hot showers for this monkey. until the urticaria has gone off.

it's a bizarre phenomenon for me. unlike all other allergic reactions i had in the past (the worst one being the one i had when i was 15 years old, probably ate something silly, which lead to poisoning; i took the subway to downtown to see the family doctor, in high collared shirts and hat, because my body was literally full of angry red welts. this resulted to gracious slap on the ass with a steroid shot, which sent everything away in flat fifteen minutes. it was awesome. truly a miracle), this particular one waited for a bit- a good three-four days, till it literally erupted.

a quick search have led to numerous discussions on sun sensitivity and sunscreen allergies. in order to avoid a small sun sensitivity, i ended up getting back a whole a lot of trouble; back in korea, they have a saying close to: try to give a pint, instead ends up receiving a quart. and this is too true at the moment. ha.

my sun sensitivity isnt too bad, actually. it only happens on my neck/shoulder/face, where after a while in the sun, 'prickly heat' appears- but sun does not seem to bother any other areas- ex. legs, arms, torso. but because it can be a quite a nuisance, i have decided to invest in a sunscreen product for the summer. since i have had problems with the generic sunscreens (breakouts and irritation being common reaction), i decided to go to an expensive specialty shop (ie. sephora) and seek advice from the ladies. i explained that i do have a sensitive skin (though how sensitive, i dont really know, as i tend to avoid putting stuff on skin as much as i can), that i want a sunscreen product that will cover upper torso and may be the face. and they recommended this clinique product.

sun is a rare thing in england, even in june. so when the sun was out last wk, i took a slap of the sunscreen and went out and we all had grand time. no major problems that day. then on the day we shipped PO off and had minnow progeny no. 2 for a dinner, i started to notice unhappy skin. then later in that evening, it start to feel itchy, like wildfire sparks on my face. next morning was a quite a rude awakening-

my face and shoulder were covered with this tiny blister-like urticaria, med peeps refer to it as papules. and this skin cells begin to produce generous amo. of histamines. it's a bit late, dont you think? i mean- after four days? really? anyways. i wondered if it's sun allergy- but no, further reading would lead to the case of photosensitive eruption. it is created when an individual had applied sunscreen products which may contain irritants; the irritants must be on the skin and upon exposure to the sun, then it turns into the proper basket case.

what to do? well, there isnt much to do. take some oral anti-histamines, apply topical cortisone creams. only if my lips/throat begin to swell, go see a physicians (which at this point, they will give you those wonderful shots of steroids to make everything go away, i believe. or i can be dreaming as well). but till then, just keep quiet and ride it out. dont scratch as it may break skin.

then it reminded me of this particular facial cream i bought- with spf 15 factor. could they be sharing ingredients? i remember putting it on my face and i ended up having small bumps on my pores, as if i had blocked pores/acnes. it kind of burned and stung a bit, so i gave it away. so i went up to the bathroom to take a quick look at the both jars/tubes. voila. it seems that both octocrylene (a fairly new compound used in high SPF factor cosmetics, less than ten years) and benzophenon compounds are the link between two different products (a daily calming cream for sensitive skin, ironically, and sunscreen with trademarked solar smart compounds) and the irritation/urticaria case.

apparently it is only a small percentage of the population which experiences delayed photosensitivity. lucky me. but i thought it may be of some use for others to hear about this sunscreen allergic reaction, as it is quite surprising and most unpleasant to endure.

with such angry skin, i dare not to step out of the door, which is quite surprising to myself. i always thought that i would be alright with disfigurement and that i would be able to rely on my 'personal strength' to overcome, but on fourth day of close-to-insanity thanks to irritated skin and countless reapplication of topical cortisone cream and ice packs, im starting to doubt this; for instance, i thought of heading out to get some air, then folded the idea when i looked self on the mirror: dotty bumpy red-blotchy face!!

and with another dose of benadryl, im slowly sinking back to sleep.

may be when i wake, i will be clear again. damn you delayed photoallergic eruption. painfully itchy, dotty, temporarily-ugly-monkey sends world her love. but no, i wont come out till this is done with.

fallacy of magic potion

2011-06-13T13:01:00.000-04:00

o the rare days of sun in england
this wee monkey had her shoulders out in the sun
with its little hound teeth
the sun left itty marks on pale monkey skin
which have not seen the sun,
working in the depth of indoors at the ivory tower.

small odd heat bumps
carrying the anger in size of sesami seeds
looking like a constellation chart
the monkey remembered the advise of experts:
put your sunscreen on,
before the sun eats you up!

pondering at the aisle of magic potions
of all colours shapes and of course, prices,
she read the lables:
sunsmart, oil-free, perfume-free,
allergy-tested, anti-pimples,
anti-aging, highest-rated,
lost in fancy words, she picked one
and exited the shop with people cheering after her:
'you will be beautiful! you are being careful!'
all she wanted was to not be bitten
with itty hound teeth of summer sun rays.
the fact that the magic potion costed her a handsome sum,
everyone chirped about the 'high quality' of the product.
it's not a drug-mart quality, they beamed.

'apply generously,'
a blob on her finger, she did her
neck, shoulder, face, and yes,
behind the ears.

alas, this was the golden days of the old,
when she was hopeful and still smooth.

nowdays, they talk of her,
behind the pharmacy desk:
there's nothing we can do,
no steroids cream for you, as it's on your face.
take your 10mg loratadine and chill out.
it'll be gone when it's gone.

spotty and bumpy monkey now sits in the house
with wine bottles against her itchy neck
a pinot grigio, a dry white,
bringer of short-lived relief on her blotchy skin.

sun-sensitivity it began.
sunscreen-allergy she found,
all along the little curves of her neck and shoulders,
the chin line and yes,
behind her ears.
itchy blotchy days of
ill-made match of organic chemicals!

*you can send your sympathy in forms of chocolates and other tasty forms to the green hills of chinley, where a frazzled minnow looks after bumpy monkey, wincing and moaning. yet, she seldom scratches. it IS making some sort of strange saint out of this one.

... i did get on the late train though

2011-06-12T20:56:00.002-04:00

people often ask how i got involved in music. funny enough, i tell them: no, my parents arent musicians nor i was put to lessons at a tender young age. i did wanted to go to a specialty arts schools but i wasnt allowed to audition, as only silly or really rich kids went there. no, i didnt fall in love with piano, but with oboe; however, i wasnt encouraged nor allowed to have one. we did have a piano though so i started on piano. hmm, organ- well, i did study for about 8 years but that's because i was one day hired to play an organ for sunday services at this massive church at age 14. yep. i was on the payroll.

i remember feeling a bit confused in high school as i was not part of their music curriculum. at that break where the preteens were taken into the band room and were asked to select an instrument, i was in my english-as-second-language class. by the time i have learned english, i have missed the boat totally to join music classes. our high school music teachers refused to let me in and i used to look at the kids going to band practice with bit of envy. i didnt like brass instruments and i still dont. but i remember thinking it couldve been nice to see how it all wouldve pan out.

i went to university to study music only after i have stopped playing for awhile and i never thought i would make it as a player. i auditioned as music education major and as my friends did their third and fourth year undergraduate recitals, i felt a bit envious. in fact, if my old teacher did not encourage me to attend my very fist music camp/festival at a young age of 21, i probably have stayed in the city to do teacher's college. then what? i have no clue.

it was all bizarre, this music camp stuff. kiddies came with their stuff prepared; i remember asking a boy how long he has been working on a particular piece- he said: over a year. i thought, what? really? you are only fourteen or so! the idea that they have been in music camps since they were children and that they had parents and family/friends who were musical were inconceivable for me. i realized that there were kids whose lives were saturated from music and that whatever they do, they would always be supported. in contrast, my parents were a bit shocked and displeased when i decided to ditch med school for a sketchy career choice (or lack thereof) of music. thank the lord, they thought, at least i wasnt into pop or jazz music. at least you can be a school teacher when you get out of music college.

after that bizarre summer, i went and played in an international masterclass, all the way in orlando, florida with big name faculties. it was such a surprise to everyone when they ask what im studying in school and i would answer: elementary music education. at least they didnt know that i failed the entrance theory exam for undergrad program as i couldnt even really understand the questions- i have never taken music theory at that point, age 19. luckily i was appreciated for where i was and left the conference with invitation to come and study in cologne, germany (which i didnt take on, as i couldnt bear to struggle through another language, after learning english and french simultaneously when i moved to canada).

it was a fortunate thing that i left yyz to go study in the states, specifically in kansas. my advisers knew very little of my past and based on what they saw, they continued to push and nurture me. it was a heck of a learning curve from taking remedial basic theory course to tackle 900 courses straight on from the first semester of master's prog* i never read so much and learned much. i was the youngest and clearly the imbecile of the class at the beginning. haha. it does make me snicker a bit as my colleagues mustve wondered where i came from-

*in north america, the first digit usually describes the difficulty level: 1st year courses would be in 100s, 2nd year in 200s etc., master's will start from 500s-600s, and 800s-900s being reserved for doctoral courses, usually in seminar formats.

i suppose i caught up with the crowd and by the time i finished my phd, things were at an even ground. at this point, i do like to think that im capable and able to research and learn, that i am apt and i do like what i do.

however, whenever i see the young kids who came from musical families and the likes (including habitual musical families and kids who were encouraged/begged to stay in music and play etc), it does make me wonder: who would i be if i had that particular sorts of supports? minnow was studying bartok and berg at chets at age 18. at age 19, i wasnt even capable of understanding one of the most basic question: complete this melody harmonization in SATB, from tonic to dominant, back to tonic. while the kids became veteran of creme de creme festivals such as banff, tanglewood and interlochen, i was busy working making pocket money for concerts tickets and such. often people speak longingly about their childhood grand pianos (still at home) or first 'real' instruments, i wonder what it must be like to have an instrument of one's own ( i do not have one).

listening to a musical discussion between two generations this evening, it makes me wonder: where am i and where would i have been? would life been different if my parents simply agreed to let me audition at a specialty middle school? what if i grew up in a house where i was supported and i had my own grand piano? if my progress from my twenties was jump started a bit earlier, would i be in a different place?

quite rare but i feel envious of such things, once in awhile. i try not to be bitter- as even the most supported kids never had a guarantee that they would succeed in field of arts in general. and no, it's not my parents' obligation to meet every wish of mine. they certainly gave me plenty- a good balance of wish list and a vigilant recommendation list. who knows? i couldve been a burn-out. mostly, it's amusing to think- a small monkey whose life did not revolve around music at all, had no clue that she would be working in music at all- playing, recording, producing, teaching, house managing, you name it. the road not taken, then road that was built. the roads found once youve given up. the roads we traveled while being unaware. interesting lives we weave.

a commie birthday

2011-06-07T19:40:00.000-04:00

so the earth has gone around once again, and born as a sunday's child, this particular monkey celebrated her birthday on a friday, a bit groggy and still crumpled from the cross-pond journey. i feel a bit wistful that i left yyz a day before the happy-not-dead-yet-day as i realized that it did matter to my maternal gene pool; you see, my b days were spent out of home most of the time (since i was 19 i think?) and not having too many friends in elementary school, as a reactionary, i never put much emphasis on birthdays.

but i should have thought of it from mom's perspective- after losing gabe, i bet she's a bit more attached to the other two kiddies that she conceived, gave birth to and still continues to eat her love, if a bit messily (insert lots of cut-eyes and unpleasant phone exchanges). and yes, that's what it was- she wanted to do something for monkey. she wasnt saying 'you shouldve stayed' to make me sad, but really because she wanted me to stay. oops sorry mom. i do love you. I LOVE YOU! anyways.

this year, i had a proper birthday party. minnow called up on chinley friends. and PO, my best mate, who i dragged to england as a forced holiday ('and no, you cannot install any audio-related program on your laptop! you are going on a damned holiday!'), also was born on beginning of june. so two birthdays were celebrated in this old pub, in the back room. sound dodge? well, yes, it couldve been.

except.

it is a proper 16th century pub with a great beer selection. and food is good. not as good as the company though. my/PO's b day cake was baked by the daughter of cello chair no. 3 and english horn lady of the phil, a nine-and-half-sassy-lady, who showed up in her 'grease' costume dress. the table was full of odd combinations of things: firelady, both principle double reeds, violist who really is an accordionist at heart, a romantic cello boy, minnow's longtime section friend, appropriate off-spring and lovely accompanying family member(s). and yep. i had a beer ( ! ) and a glass of red ( ! ) and a huge piece of cow meat ( ! )

why such a decadence? from usually-hard-nosed-austere monkey?

because a birthday is not really just for me. i finally found this revelation. as death day (or funeral day) wont be really for me either. i used to think birthday are stupid- as far as logics go, a day of a year had to be a birthday. the odd of it being 'today,' which would be 1: 365, is actually quite a good odd (if my odds are this good consistently, i would gamble) therefore people who demanded 'bday treatment' were deemed as 'morons.'

and yes, they will still be *morons.

*please dont be offended about the term: moron. it still is a psychological term at its heart, describing a person with mental age between 8-12. in fact:
idiot (IQ 0-25) < imbecile (IQ 26-60) < moron (IQ 51-70)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moron_(psychology)

however, it would also be a moronic thing to tell one's loved ones to stop all expressions of love for oneself. a birthday party belongs to a group of people, not a person. in that case, who am i to say: cease the festivity? let me be loved by my peeps. and a glass of red and a nice former derbyshire bovine being is hard to resiste. especially in a 16th century pub and paid by others.

so i had a grand time. they all had a good time. though i am sure that the sum of everyone's enjoyment is a lot larger than its parts. one can have a good dinner any day. especially if one starves. but it's not about food. not about being in a pub. not about having friends. nor about not dying- yet. it is the sum of all things that leads to that random focal point. i couldve celebrated the a gold mean date based on my birthday within the year. but really, that's too much math. so why not pick a date that is agreeable, easy to remember (so they say) and meets the initial requirement of being one of the 365 days within the year?

well, so we did. did i tell you that it's also mataharis' birthday? yep. crazy gemini dates.

it was nice to experience shared love from people's lives that overlaps with mine. it was an occasion to express gratitudes and be gracious to one another. birthday it was, and it belongs to everyone around me. and i am lucky to have such great people in my life. so a small thanks everyone! i shall try not to die soon nor painfully. good wishes for all!

no one can top a sexual healing shaman, i tell you

2011-06-01T02:54:00.000-04:00

recently, there was a small gathering with my banff flames in toronto- we got together and played some hot hot hot tango. if i could dance like i play the tango, i think i would be a hot item. i love making comments like that only because i will never have to prove it! ha. however, i should explain that for some reason i have tried stay as far as i can from logistics (what a 'musician' thing to do, i know) and that should explain why i rarely do things on the out side of the box. my mad flutter was all the way in montreal. so what of the logistics? well, someone else decided to jump and be the all-one-can-be. hooray. let's just call her sexual-healing-shaman lady. im not making this up, this was the description of herself from last year. one does not argue or discuss such identity- well, i wont. and i never will. what if i get vexed with some hilarious sexual curse? fisting? no thanks!

anyways, at the ripe age of 31, i suppose i do have an idea of how things roll in this world and i did mark it down on my calendar as 'whacked out gig,' except it turned out to be one of the biggest fiasco i ever got involved with. its unique angle was daunting enough that i dared to ask my friends to attend, especially at 22 a head. so goes email no. 1:

...well for college kids/young professionals who are responsible for their own finances in the city (ie. no mom/dad), i think 22 is a bit stiff especially when it has been specified that tickets are non-transferable.

for instance, most shows at lee's palace/dakota tavern/drake hotel/gladstone hotel/c'est what/sneaky dee's/rex hotel/el mocambo/horseshoe are either PWYC or under 20. or in case of emmet ray and many other spaces, lot of them are free. looking at the prices of these places, i cant justify asking them to pay 22 dollars for a show.

though you are making this into more of a multidimensional event, i suppose. and you are the organizer, not i.

i understand the cost of running things however i think that such event should have accessibility as a priority and though it is nice to hang around with apps and stuff, i think perhaps lower entrance fee with optional food tickets could have been appropriate.thanks for reply. good luck with prep,

let's just say she simply said: my friends wouldnt pay 22 to see you?

!

no! i hope not! if so, they need to pay me 22 dollars to whack them on the head! are you nuts!?
wait. you are? you are! aha! eureka!

we all got paid about 60 a person for the quartet (and that's when our lovely cellist got squat! we owe her huge) in an event that charged advance 22/door 30 bucks to attend. well, the ticket sales added up to $1160 apparently, which was a quite a feat i think, though this venue apparently costs half a thousand for the day! was it amazing? well, what we had to do was amazing (look at the picture above). i was quite amused that they never realized that there's a thing called music rack on a piano. well, when shaman first wrote about the piano, she did say:

Also, Monkey needs a piano right? there is an upright at the loft but it might not be tuned to her standards.Monkey, you can call (loft owner), all the details are on the website too.

well. hahaha. gosh. now, thats- eeer, new, i never had to request music rack as a tech requirement for a piano. but yes, they are proud that it is a very professional music venue with... acoustic piano. mind you, we did find a bench of a sort after... an hour. anyways, i understand there are sketchy venues. it's not a new thing. i suppose ive been lucky to dodge certain kinds of gigs. ha.

and then there was the math part: without a disclaimer that the bands were paid based on times they played for the audience, a loose figure was given initially. then based on good old nepotism principle, she kindly wrote:

For (tango band) and (friend's band), I did a mathematical breakdown relative to length of performance.
act 2 - performed 50minutes = $180 (27% of 660)
act 3 - performed 110 minutes = $400 (60% of 660)
I hope you find this fair and reasonable. I am so proud of all of you and thank you for sharing your amazing gifts and love with me and everyone there. You were fantastic.

and i started to laugh. anyone who does math like that for payment clearly doesnt know anything about how to run an event. now all was clear. this was a gong show in a fancy house! it's a funny thing, shaman thought she was trying to 'change the way people look at arts' but man, what she did for me was to 'change the way people get paid.' for all timed gigs i have done, it's always pre-stated. if not, one is paid for the presence, meaning in multiple acts, the fees are given in somewhat of a fair-manner. and hence it was never mentioned, it was quite a surprise. i mean- we would have put on 3 hours set if we knew playing more would mean more money! haha. we simply thought she would know what she was up to. oops. bad me. how silly of me to assume people to understand things they never thought of.

so after a bit of thoughts, i thought it was only fair to let her know how phantasmal the event was. certainly one of a kinds i say. so here it is. and i really think it'll make her a bit happy to know that she did organize a party based on our amazing gifts. three highly trained classical musicians (royal college, london; new england conservatory; me with doctor thing) are amazing when they play together, especially when we have a good friend, wee young one with us! but man, the most amazing thing was the this phantasmal impresario shaman lady. the world never cease to amaze me. so we may as well enjoy every bit of the unexpected!

dear phatasmal shaman impresario lady,
it was the most amusing event that i ever have taken part of, and koodos for arranging such a house party.

it is a shame that it did cost half a grand to throw a house party, because only in non-pro venues would have fail to provide the basic requirements, as illustrated in lack of contract/ insufficient tech support (i was quite surprised that your venue person never have heard of piano rack on a piano) and the payment math.

it is fine to carry on one's plans; however, do not make a grave mistake of taking yourself seriously as a professional organizer. and if what you have wrote to me have anything to do with how one sees arts (about ticket prices), based on your capacity during this occasion, i see the arts-create joy event relation as not a failure but a complete non-match.

i understand that you may not understand the finesse and dedication of serious musicians as you many not have seen: ex. banff centre, international festivals, universities, proper venues such as SXSW.

it's all alright, there are time and place for every kinds of events. but please do regard that for you, it would be crucial to integrate the appropriate quality of performers for such events.
i was happy to donate my time to a block party, as i am quite happy to play with such musicians but i hope you arent making a mistake of seeing this event as a professional event, as it would be a gross miscast and it may come to a personal embarrassment at some unfortunate future instances.

dr monkey

monkey league of extraordinary gentlemen

2011-05-26T02:55:00.001-04:00

today i ordered new glasses for dad. he's been rather fond of the idea of paying the absolute minimum (as i have done) for the new glasses and finally, the other day, he was on the phone, eager to yell out those random numbers to me. funny thing is that i think because he's seen both ends of internet glasses: success (i had three pairs that fitted me well) vs. fail (my bro's glasses were a slight misfit, somehow), as soon as he's been to the optometrist, he just had to see how it will turn out.

well, little does he know. mom's been nudging, blackmailing, pleading, asking and appealing to me for weeks to get dad's glasses- with a catch: get him a stylish new one! it has been somewhat traditional for koreans to spend quite a bit of money on appearance-related things, such as clothes, shoes, glasses, etc. there are girls who eat package ramen noodles to save up for a designer bags. ladies who spends dollars and more dollars on cosmetic procedures and 'conditioning' (what does that mean anyways?) the cases go on. except there are a few odd ones out: my family. well, wait, not entirely true. gabe was rather stylish (and he did spend!) and mom was also quite style-conscious. looking at their honeymoon picture, i often wondered: wtf happened here? a typical nerd and a pretty girl? my stock is that common?! (insert sitcom laughter)

so i finished ordering this fancy ass glasses. no, they dont come from hongkong. it's mr. bill blass who designed the frame (after he died?), haha, and withsomeone who has won the fashion institute of technology lifetime achievement award, it is slick, nice and expen$ive. what's another 30 bucks, let's make it with lens with highest index of refraction. anti-glare coating? sure. dad knows my specs costed me mere half bill. he is hoping that it'll cost about that much. man, he's going to be pissed when he realizes his glasses costs me about 6 times as much. WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR!? and i will show my teeth and grin like a monkey. sill dad. who said i got these glasses for YOU!? dad's a practical man and i am being impractical by whimsically amusing mom's wishes. and every time he wears the glasses, he may even hurt somewhere, like a small soft spot on his spleen, thinking about dollars spent on the specs. ha.

and meanwhile, i went and took a kiddie out for lunch with PO. and though we are all making money of some sort, PO refuses to split the lunch bill at times. there's no way one could win, except to run and claw over the next bill (coffee and cookies or something), or by unexpectedly feeding him. we started as friends, then to courtship, then grew slightly differently and now i see and love him as a brother.

for instance, i 'helped' today to sort through old pants and clean out his closet. i say i 'helped' because 1. i was the one who really wanted to get it done (i hate squashing other shirts in closet to make room for the fresh laundered ones; since closet does not grow, well, some things have to go), 2. he will not likely to start the process himself (my granny chimed in and said on the phone: 'but men are like that!' really granny? i thought most of people- men and women, are like that!! so i had to take initiative and gently cox him by transmorphing into a banshee. 3. even when it's been sorted, the final nail on the coffin, ie. getting them to recycling places, etc., usually become 'another day project.' i wasnt going to let that happen.

so it's done. he's baffled how happy that makes me. and i dont really care. as it made me feel loads better. so that's a different man who's been in my life for a quite a while now and i am quite excited that we are on the best terms possible as fellow human beings and i cant wait to bring him to the hills next week. weeeee.

this evening, my fridge called me by first name and i had to sacrifice something. so i did a melon. good bye cantaloupe. a sizable fruit it is- it took awhile to butcher it all. i had a big bowlful but there's still another half. as i was cutting this melon, i could not help but to think of my best best friend from nebraska, javier. we were inseparable. he tucked me in bed and we made countless lunches and dinners together. we went to parties together, we bitched out in our dorm rooms together. often people thought we were an item, though we both liked pants. and i havent seen him since he's been to toronto a years ago, with my good japanese sis yoshi. and because he's a phone person and i am an email person, it's been somewhat quiet between the two of us. i think i may bite the bullet and call him or something, because it just has been too long! so why javier along fruit?

well, you see, javier and i used to spend quite a bit of money on grocery shopping. we were the two who bought bags and bags of groceries. the american kids used to be flabbergasted about the amo. of groceries we both hauled in on weekly basis. except javier's freezer compartment was a piece of art, at all times. it was totally packed. a tuck shop. it had everything. and he also had this huge bowl of fruits. then we would wait. for days. till they were just right. and we would dash down to the kitchen and eat the big whole cantaloupe between two of us, no problem. with fruits, there would be gossip, may be a glass of wine, this and that. chit chat. and lots of love. yes, i loved him dearly- and i still do. and damn it, i shall make some efforts to get in touch with him again.

after all, he was the reason i lived in the dorms for all my years in nebraska. he was on 1st floor, i was on 2nd. it was way too convenient for us- we had friends and when even friends were being a$$holes, we had one another. we alway had room for one another. cheesy but true: best buddies. i miss him like i miss cookies at 2am in the morning. there's no way to satisfy self, but only to dream of the alluring company. a man who i still consider my best mate.

and there are other figures- bookbomber is a proper mentor for me in many ways. he's got too deep of a brain (which i think gets him into all kinds of practical disasters, like house renovation). i do love and adore him, though i dont get to see him much but that doesnt matter, it feels.

and a particular cellist who started as a challenging partner and has became an inspiration- his work ethics and personal expressions, courage and sensitivity (it does help that he's a brilliant musician), we will get to host him and the lady this summer in the hills, which i am really excited about.

and ooooh my crazy friend who can making farting on the sax sounds like the true fundamental frequency of the universe. he's a crazy monkeyfo (i think, but something more like a golden tamarind monkey, beautiful, agile and quick. they are also smaller, non-threatening and exquisite-stunning) and i consider it one of my biggest blessing from banff to have met him and that we are often in the same city, same univ. i would give him a kidney even if i only had one.

then there are a few brothers- in dakar city, in texas, who i love dearly yet have not seen in awhile. men as proper brothers- we watch one another's back and we are mighty proud of one another. there's nothing more proud than to spend time with these boys.

i also dearly love the quiet boys of the illinois plane, in princeville. boys, brothers, good men. they follow the will of the good/god and they dont preach. they simply live. i havent been there in a long time, however, i do find the urge to write to them. often i think i should really pick up the pen and do so, how are they ever going to know that i love them still today, esp if i dont say a peep?

recently, i also have a little otter boy who has lost a big heart to a finite ending: death. he has lost something that cannot be replaced. and at that age (and the age of the person who ended), thinking of what it may feel like (as i lost my younger bro just about a year before he lost his cousin), i want to give him anything i could give him- yet there's only one thing i suppose: time. a small injured otter boy. he's loved from all direction but that doesnt mean that i should rely on his environment to take care of him. i do carry him close to my heart and i wish him a meaningful recovery from such loss. so that's a wee brother otter. and boy, he's grow into a man, like a big oak tree, centered and beautiful.

then there's minnow.

minnow is what 'we' are. simply the most beautiful man i have ever met. and on daily ground, he grows even more beautiful, simply because he does know and does live life. he may have been bullied and pushed around by others, because he cares. he has been mistaken as a softie and he doesnt care, because he is strong. man of many tales and seasons, he does not grow into me; he simply grows with me. rather than being interdependent hence becoming parasitic, he lets me flourish. we are just beginning, after eventful two years. and i love him as 'him,' nothing more nothing less. he is a man who i love and respect. the best man of my life.

with such line up of great men around this monkey, i feel as if i should shoot a provocative spread of emotional playgirl or something, if such would do the justice. i do have extraordinary gentlemen in my life and often i wish it was all because of me! HAHA. love to the boys! there are more than i can mention in this short snippet. and ooh... even more love to the girls, especially the amazing lawyer lady in faraway plain, who ive been thinking recently. you rock my world by living the life with belly full of life!

and thanks to the world for supplying me with such company. as the world is rather prone to grace me with bizarre display of mystifying and amusing state of various individuals. for recent things, all i have to say is that i dont dig song and dances... especially if there are song and dances already! or people who find reasons to damn themselves down with things that doesnt even ever occur or bother the rest of the world... then they are bitter because the world is mocking them (in fact world has not done much... but no, somehow being not involved means it is all to be blamed! how interesting failure of logic) but who knows. may be it's that standard deviation concept: there always will be incomprehensibles. who knew.

we all did.
HA.

hedonistic tails of spring

2011-05-22T01:21:00.003-04:00

last couple weeks were some spectacular blur of things. i dont think i have eaten so many notes in a given time period- and i am somewhat glad for it, as i now have a better method of approaching speed-learning. most performances had some good things to it, and of course, i look forward playing these pieces again- hindemith, strauss, jolivet, martinu, you name it. some days began as early as 8am at the work bench and often i left while the custodians were having their 'lunch' break- near midnight.

by the end, the stage didnt really bother me most of the time nor the microphones. weirdly enough, the practice/rehearsals were more demanding and draining; i suppose that's the 'right' way to prep- to do the hard works so that one can actually perform. i did drop many notes, enough to probably build gaudi-style tower of 'spontaneous misinterpretation.' ah well, at least it would be entertaining. and just like sangra familia, it'll go on, for days and weeks, as a perfect performance is never a reality but of an ideal.

so last three days were empty of music-well, not really, but it certainly felt so. today was the first day i went back to the bench. and doing the usual drills i do (which took a bit longer than usual- the ten puppies were quite prone to misbehaving- going wherever they want, rather than doing what they are told, tsk tsk), then down to the distillery to do a short recording session (playing). but rest of the time, it was mostly passive activities (ie. sitting in a recording session, discussing piano acoustics etc).

it felt nice to do the warmups without the pressure of learning things in a hurry- i could afford to do things at slower tempo, with much more attention to detail. though there's some grand truth about being focused and working in a tight deadline.

without stack of music to eat, what did monkey do? well, i did the boring things such as cleaning the living quarter, doing the taxes, pay bills, send couple things out. i met up with friends- all the friends who i wanted to see but simply didnt have the brain space for- and i also spent some time with myself and mr. wee.

keeping friendship is a quite a work. it doesnt need to be done on daily basis, but depending on the different relationship that develops itself, it becomes crucial to nurture it on regular basis. many of my friends are crazy busy- even when they are in town. it's not too important how often i see them, but the fact i do get to see them and often it's the indirect methods such as emails and texting that does much of the work.

it does make me wonder- am i losing the human touch? shouldnt i make more efforts to see them in person, rather than sending an unexpected emails? should i call them? break the days to million parts so i can see them more often even if it breaks the days' flow?

well, it really has been three days that i finished a big schedule. and the people i got in touch with, wrote to, shared bread and pints with, they are all important to me. and there'll be more coming. heck, im even spending the night at the gene pools so we could go brunching for sunday. some peeps are coming back to town. some, i will see them later when i am abroad (yaaay). there are much more music to be made (three incredible violists want chamber music. what a weird thing- no chasing of violists, unlike school. at music schools, one usually have to beg violist *if there is one that one wishes to work with, nevermind volunteering). more food to be shared and more walks to be had.

tis' a sudden burst of humanity in my life. if i was drawing from the pool of collective humanity of the current civilization through music/arts, now i am actually contributing back to my surrounding, by interacting, provoking and sharing. and boy, it's a relief. though i, for a second, thought that i was spending much money in last couple days. well, that's what money is for- to be spend on living. and it's a pleasure to have to elbow one's way through to pick up the bill. or graciously open the wallet to share one's labour in exchange of such pleasant companies.

there wont be enough time to catch everyone i love, but darn, im making some serious efforts. and yes, i will go back and converse with the piano for a bit as well. just so that it doesnt get any funny idea about it being the mistress or something. forget it, piano. we work together, you and i, for whoever that may be in need of a monkey.

i am glad to be done with the semester; i learned loads. and here is my shout out to peeps who were supportive and gracious to hurried-tail-on-fire-monkey:

THANKS!

now 11 days till departure. to summer. to a place where i cant even really work because i am not allowed to. i wonder what kind of things will occupy monkey mind, in the large green hills with silly lambs with wiggly tails. talks of heading over to copenhagen. may be a lucky visit from dear friend and his lady over the ocean. buxton fish van that brings incredible salmons. local butchers and their preciously tasty lamb chops ( ! ) prom concerts and days in london. stone working and pub walks. tailing mr minnow like a silly puppy, nose in every bloody thing on the way. aint i lucky. mr. wee agrees, as he is fast asleep from rather hedonistic days of late. after all, he's only a small rabbit, haha. with biggest heart. love to you all.

best dinner in the world

2011-05-15T22:04:00.002-04:00

for years and years, ive been in the kitchen, making and sharing food. we used to throw a huge party for everyone in nebraska. somehow, there always was enough food to feed anywhere from two to crowd of fifty. if i have an hour, i can whip something out decent. if i have fifteen minute, i can still whip something out decent. from the empty fridge, i would raid the cupboard to make a dinner, out of 'nothing.' i would dig things out from friends' fridge, in the depth of 'ooh i dont really know what that is-' into a nice post-drinking nosh. i will take leap of faith with spices and turn things around to 'mysterious' to 'tasty.' and people asked many times- where did i learn to cook? well, some knew that i worked at a kitchen- starting from veg prep to the hot fires of the dinner service kitchen. many know that i like good food and likes to hunt down things in old and new places. in my heart, however, i know where i have learn it-

my mother's heart.

i remember being super curious about these fast food shops as a child. people ate things wrapped in papers, carrying out trays. being in korea, the concept of hamburgers and fries were exotic and foreign. even the great street foods were off-limits. we simply had no real pocket money. but when we returned home, there was always something super nice, made from scratch. mom was always on it. one of my favorite things from my childhood is french toast. eggy mixture with sugar, bread dipped and fried warm and happy. a dollop of jam on top. whenever there were company, it was shared around table. always plenty to start with, until- she decide to send the children out to neighbours' houses, carrying piping hot food. we were specifically instructed to carry back the empty plates so that they'll be free of obligations of sending things in exchange. haha. not only we had to drool and wait till everyone else had some, the plentiful mountain of food may be just enough to get us going, leaving us wanting a bit more.

mom's cooking always brought much joy to everyone. then we came to canada and she started to work crazy hours. slowly, she had to leave much home chores to granny and others and till this day, she hardly get the time to make things from scratch. too much work. always work. work first. and i moved out. i started to cook for myself. mom's cooking became something of a specialty from everyday riches. couple years ago, when she was ticked with me, i casually asked if she could make this dried pollock soup for me and as a joke, she said no. though it wasnt just a joke, she never found the time to make me one that time. then we forgot about it. well, i 'forgot' about it, keeping that small 'no' gesture in the corner of my mind, where the small child would go and sulk.

couple days ago, i wrote one of the most difficult letter, ever. it involved three words: i, love and you. for mother's day. last year was a tough one, as gabe just left. this year, not much better. as monkey ran around with nutters schedule and mom/dad tending the mad store that always require more work, it was tense. we couldnt meet up for mother's day and somewhere along the way, the story ended with little selfish girl crying and mom silent with disapproval, on the other side of the phone. so i thought i would do something i have started many times: to say i love her.

except, i dont think i ever finished one.

except, this year, i did. sent it off.

today, i made a quick visit to home, the first day it's been sane enough to do things that arent essential (ie. music cramming). and she was in the kitchen. making me dinner.

everyone did eat. i did eat earlier and didnt have to eat. she knows that i can always get food later and that traditionally sunday afternoon, my parents' house is quiet, napping after the big sunday lunch. but not today.

the table was set for one. dad was doing some paper works, granny having tea. mom set that table for me. just for me. and i saw the card, on the side glance, on top of the dresser. standing. i gave her piece of my heart and there she was, making me a piece of her heart.

i had the best food in the world today. i wonder i will have the guts to tell her so. people speak in different languages and gestures. stiffy family we are, we never ever really said risky words such as love. but today we werent our usual. we werent vocal, but we did speak. love. from me, to you.

nourished monkey is grateful. i love you mom.

NO ONE TELL GRANNY!

echoes of parents day

2011-05-08T02:05:00.001-04:00

funny coincidence today. it's mother's day in canada/us. and it's also parents day back in korea. traditionally, every year, as elementary school student, we would make paper flowers (eventually graduating to make small carnation thingies that never stayed on anyone's collar) and write letter to take home, to thank our parents. most of the time, these letters contained heart-felt points that were expressed in a rather limited sentences. whenever i think about what we mustve wrote on the letters, it makes me smile:

line 1: mom/dad, happy parents day
line 2: thanks for giving birth to me
line 3: im sorry that (whatever you get yelled for)
line 4: i will be better
line 5: thank you
line 6: i love you
line 7: (sign)

of course, all these letters were inspected by the teachers (so private eh). many letters would be decorated with paper folds, pictures and failed attempts of some sorts of flowers. and with hands sticky with glue, we would bring them home, proudly carrying it in hands, not in the backpack; soon as the door bell rang, we would yell: happy parents day!

then passing of the cards,
then the usual: kicking of the shoes, dropping lunch boxes and backpacks to floor, peeling jackets off the shoulder and promptly sit at the kitchen table with open mouth and hungry stomach: what's to eat? it's a special day! we get something tasty? and of course, mom who knew that it really wont be much different from any other day (even with the curiosity that remains on the corner of the mind: is that a flower or an animal on my card? should i ask? is my child ever going to learn to spell properly or draw something nice?), would whip out something tasty for the kiddies. and we would tuck in, heads in the plates, busy consuming, then a short thanks: thanks mom, you are the best.

last year, we thought of parents day without my wee brother. instead of seeing the boy that she gave birth to grow up to be a man, my mom and my granny buried him in their hearts. and just like prometheus, daily, she loses a chunk of her heart, only to grow them back out with love. then another chunk falls out, fresh wound. this year, i emptied the morning tomorrow, hoping and hoping and hoping that i would get to see mom/dad/granny for a brunch. they were wanting to meet up last week but because of the standing difficulty between the gene pool units and minnows situation (and i was working, it wasnt just an excuse!), we postponed to tomorrow.

until something in the shop went bust and everything was thrown off the kilter, things piled up for customers, more and more stuff, cloths, cloths, cloths, bills, changes, bank-atm-terminal-misbehaving (my gene pools work their fingers to the point of no fingerprints at the dry cleaning shop, at one point to feed the three greedy little piggies and old mom at home, then now with somewhat of a desperation after they lost the wee one), we are postponing once again. i feel sorry enough for myself that im debating to send a flower pot for them. it's cliche and it'll likely to be overpriced mad. it will already be late. and i am a bit hesitant to send flowers because that really isnt what i wanted to do. i wanted to get to brunch, eat some random americanized chinese food and discuss mundane things and see them in person.

and then there's the dumb math.

1 - 1/3 = 2/3
however
not
true
nor
1 - 1/6 = 5/1
as it
is
not
true

last year, my heart was in shreds at this time, the mound of freshly dug soil on the ground, where we tried to put our wee one under the ground. the mound of unspoken and confused tangled mess of sorrows to come for the all the days i would live and remember. this year, just like the mound that is nearly gone, covered with grass (to be marked with expensive bronze marker soon!) from the daily surface, i remember the wee one as on-going basis but it does not disable me to point of total confusion, a pointblank. but when i think of the word parents and the tradition of good ol'korean elementary schools, i cant help but to be a bit lost. arithmetic is not holding its truth and the whole math system crashes.

in the crashed dusts of numbers, logics and reasons, i think of mom, probably worn out and sleeping with aid of chemicals along with my tired old dad, slowly withering and aging in that old marital bed. i think of my old dear granny in her little bed, pile of newspapers and magazines around her pillow, her mind sinking into sleep with weight of her years. my other bro, who must be just getting ready to sleep, off from his late resto work schedules, standing on feet all day, kicking shoes off and getting in that small piece of joy to respite himself, to brace himself for the next demanding workday coming, whatever it may be. i, here in my little mind space, that may not even really exist, thinking about a life that is no longer available for sharing.

simple day it used to be, parents day.

priorities and actions

2011-05-03T21:11:00.001-04:00

ive been wanting to write for a bit now- blog, letters, emails, postcards...

but it's been a busy whirlwind, ever since i got back from reading week. and hasnt finished yet. in fact, when one thing is done, i think at least one more thing pops up. but it's good to be busy- financially but also personally.

because it is hard to pin down where i actually physically am at (uk? canada?), most of the works that i get to do are either difficult repertoire that people tend to run away from or the last-minute rescue operations. talking to many of my friends in the business, apparently my fees are too low for what i provide; i am hoping that at some point (may be it could be closer than i think?!) i can find the balance of quality of work - quantity of work - self/partner satisfaction. a balance: everyone talks of the balance and we all wish that we have it.

whenever i take a good look at my friends who i admire professionally (as there also are a few who i think could do better, including myself), i realize every single one of them are absolutely packed, up to the ears. travelling. collaboration. projects. life. friends. work. self-drive. priorities.

and i often wonder how people keep their fire going. it is so easy to lose site of things when one is constantly ran over by list, especially when the list seem to feed itself and at least double itself on regular basis. one of my friends is a true enigma. she's bright as a star, smart cookie, beautiful. and somehow just mundane daily things piles up high under her feet. and once in awhile she feels overwhelmed. the sink that was once clear can not hold not even a single chopstick. but when you look at her, her core is always bright and honest. she (must and does) knows what's what.

i recently asked bookbomber how he keeps his fire going. recordings. teaching. travelling. house disasters. then he sends me a one line, after days of deliberation (very typical of him, almost a cliche):

inspiration is an outcome:
one's action reveals one's priorities (ghandi?)

okay, it was a bit longer than that. haha.

often things in life seems like such a mess but then there are certain things that are naturally closer to one's heart. what it was or what it may become- that may be indeterminable. but what it is now can always be found, as one needs a heart to live, breathe and think. the core of self. like the roaring fire of a steam engine. as i need to eat up more and more serious repertoire for this wk and next week, i better remember to look into my heart, and make sure that my priorities are fed right.

i do carry a fire within and i will feed it as i take a step, a look, may be a thought. after all, i am supposedly born of the sign of air elemental. even in the middle of tyranny of black notes on page and rehearsals to organize, lack of time and nights that runs over the day silently as i walk back home in wet, rainy sidewalk, i will take a close look, and always find that core. keeping oneself inspired is a bit of hard work at times, haha.

love to you all.

year gone by, a thick oil flow

2011-04-26T00:27:00.000-04:00

close up from: dig down dig up, 2004 by helgi hjaltalins ejolfsdorfs

http://youtu.be/KqfQ7Ob0sxU

a year has run off through my fingers, like thick oil flow.

i tried to grasp withering and passing thoughts, brilliant at the peaks yet so quick to perish. i thought of many things and a few of them has left themselves as hard, dormant seeds in my mind, waiting for time- to spring up, break through the thick husk, to grow, to carry on. somewhere along the line, i have lost a few things and i wonder what other things i may have lost and just never realized. or have not realized yet.

i have wiped peoples' tears and i shed a few, trying to contain the little wells of sorrows that sprung up from the bottom of my heart- but they overflowed. gracing down my face, onto the void, where all sorrowful thoughts go. perhaps waiting to be covered with dust, to be dried up. i have put away things then opened boxes that has been forgotten, rediscovering the quiet yet vivid thoughts that waited patiently in the silence, for a human touch.

i looked up for the fragments of life that i desperately wanted for no particular reasons, in the vast sea of internet, unbounded vast plains and skies of my dear friends' hearts. and a few i have picked up from the street, lost yet vivid among the shuffling busy feet. i kept them dear to my heart, in the back pocket of my pants, often forgetting to get these small reminders out from the perils of washing machines. a year that was jagged, perhaps difficult.

a year that flowed like oil.

i wished perhaps that it would be nicer if it flew away like a small bird. a chirp, a spring, then the only thing that remains is the lone tree branch, gently resonating from the sudden departure of the wee bird, no longer there to be seen.

happy anniversary to my wee brother gabe, on the day he has left us to stay forever young. a small circle around the sun, said the earth- 'i have done this so many times.' i also have done it many times, like a child in the playground, holding out a stick, going round and round, making lopsided circles on the dirt ground, till it gets silly enough to fall over and laugh.

those lopsided circles are just like the year ring on the trees, life changed, pressed and kept close to heart. though the circles on dirt will disappear under the busy feet of the children, returning, then leaving, replaced by another generation of young ones, the tree rings will survive long after the tree has lived and died. for the others to trace, with bare fingers. legacy.

even the silent genius of charlie chaplin sang with his heart- not with words, not with his gestures, but with a small melody, encouraging all of us to carry on with a bit of emptiness in our hearts- and yes, sky is still there. i will keep my head up, your heart carried in mine. at all days. even when it aches. happy one year anniversary, wee brother.

smile through your heart is aching
smile even though it's breaking
when there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by
if you smile through your fear and sorrow
smile and may be tomorrow
you will see the sun come shining through for you...
(from smile; text by john turner and geoffrey parsons, music by charlie chaplin)

draining of the dam

2011-04-18T00:11:00.001-04:00

i was going to look up to see why the city feels funny this evening. well, then i realized exactly why- it's another full moon. with weather like today- we had hail, flurry, slit, rain at 45' angle, sunshine, everything, it is impossible not to look up when everything suddenly look crisp clear. yep, it's rather cold for april as well. egg moon for the april. this year, it falls on tomorrow.

last year, it fell on 28 april 2010.

on that egg moon of 2010, i was waiting for you, gabe. in kelowna. in a bizarre hotel room where everything looked slick yet it clearly wasnt up to the class it wanted to be. like the wall that looks okay until you realize something isnt at the right angle or something. the wall that's been repainted from another batch of paint. your friends were quietly talking amongst themselves and mike dropped into the conversation. i was probably writing. desperately.

356 days ago.

identification. i met you in a complete silence on 28th. as everyone withdrew and left me and you alone, i said a few things to you. but i didnt shed any tears. there wasnt any. i was building a dam. to hold my thoughts. emotions. i pulled in all strength i could possibly gather, and i wondered if i will crack and i will crumble. but then who would take care of you? of us? i was mad busy trying to find a priest so mom could be at peace knowing that you had a religious rite. doing the very best we could, to send you with most care possible.

on 29th, we found a priest so he can wish you a good trip back to dust. and i sent you off. i signed the papers. and they came and got you. took you to the fire, where you became free again.

free, even of gravity.

30th, it was an interception at the airport. i hid you underneath my jacket when the plane took off and landed. i was determined that i wasnt going to put you under the seats! night of 30th, your friends sprinkled by. to say they are sorry. your best buddy didnt know how he was going to get through your funeral. but we all did. on mayday, just like that, you were lowered, with chunks of our hearts.

and day after day, night after night, the dam collects thoughts about you. of you. regarding you.
and luckily, there are enough 'outs,' like blood-letting. and like a patient who believes in blood letting and hence benefiting from the placebo, i keep draining the dam periodically, so i wont burst.

http://images.drivebc.ca/bchighwaycam/pub/html/www/96.html
yep. webcam on highway 97 on okanagan connector.
this is what i found today. the point you rolled off. i didnt go to see it so i cant be entirely sure, but i bet there's only one 'connector,' as the rcmp officer said, that kills regularly. it looks dangerous. trecherous. curvy deadly roads of inner b.c. but that doesnt really matter anymore to me. perhaps it was your time to go. i will probably look at that webcam periodically. i love you and you are always in my heart. wee brother.

a year ago on 18 april, i had no idea what was going to happen. even the egg moon was a bit far away. but it is here now. and it brought flood of thoughts. like an egg, another symbol of life and life's mysteries. well, i suppose if i ask a jew, they will say that is is also a symbol of sacrifice and loss, sitting on the seder plate. egg, from the outside, often holds answers to great expectations- is it alive? shall we wait? how or what would come out of it?

your memories and your presence keep evolving in my mind. an unrestful, but playful little fish brother in the small dam in my heart. like the life that exists in that delicate shell.

i love you wee bro.

rainy day wriggly thought

2011-04-16T16:25:00.001-04:00

as soon as rain touches the ground and we see puddles,

there they come, wiggly icky worms.

mostly moving in straight direction, to where- i wonder?

leisurely strolls on the ground, only when the sun isnt out,

perhaps a bit surprised about the air above the dirt-

on the pavements, sidewalks,

nothing rushes them or worries them.

just little water drops (enormous for them!),

gliding down their round body.

glistening with the bits of life-giving water,

my little wee bro used to pick them up,

gently

then hold it in both hands, cupped, a child's treasure,

and he would simply say:

oh it's so pretty. look.

with no eyes, no danger foreseen-

no pedestrians, no bicycles, not even cars.

without being chased by the visual madness of the rainy day,

as everyone holds up another limb with stretched effort against the rain,

often swaying hopelessly against the gutsy wind,

worms continue,

slow stroll,

skin embraced by the gentled, muted light of the rainy day.

i pick my foot up, one at a time,

carefully placing it on the ground,

avoiding these naive worms.

and unlike me, who is a bit rushed, always, on a rainy day,

along with their slow friends-

the snails and slugs,

along with forgotten thoughts of

not-so-slow, red vested robins and brown spotted chickadees,

the worms are out,

on a rainy day.

squiggles on the plain pavement.

picture:

reflections: dennis bautiasta

http://www.cruzine.com/2010/11/04/street-life-photography/

11 months and 11 days

2011-04-06T20:44:00.000-04:00

hello wee bro! hope you are chillin'well while monkey's been burning 12 hours days. well, i know, i should be better organized but i do have to say that some family chores ate up some serious hours as well this week. me and dad finally made an appointment at the cemetery to order your grave monument. never i thought i would be taking the york transit bus on a freezing cold day to meet dad at the cemetery to discuss the 'aesthetics' (they say) or 'costs' (as i say) haha. but that's what needed to happen. did you know that you cant even really just walk into the cemetery for these things? there has been line ups, i was told. crazy. i never knew. correction. i never have thought about.

mom's been quite anxious about getting your 'name card,' she really wanted to have one done by your first anniversary. and well, it'll be a little late, as it's been 11 months and 11 days (coincidence. you know i like symmetry eh?) and it will take approx. 8 wks to be delivered and mounted. sorry, we really tried to do it as fast as we can; heck, if we left it to you to do it, it wouldve still be on your desk! haha. anyways, she'll be counting the 56 days now. oops. now 55 days. they said they will call us to let us know once it arrives.

these things are bloody expensive? since you were a dandy, i 'decided' that you wont have any of those cheesy roses or huge face of mother mary on your thingy. btw, you will be sharing a double tag with granny. yep. granny on your left and you on her right. mom/dad will be on the plot beside you. so anyhows, we decided on the most plain one (even that still have to have a cross!) but you do get a granite base (mom wanted to give you a bit of pizazz). with grand total of 3500! haha. did you know that it is expensive to die? apparently it's because brass is expensive. i wonder then why they casts with the expensive metals. anyways. it's a business i suppose.

i bought a small bouquet of flowers; i had to kinda fight for it. there's a dude who sells flowers in front of the subway. he had one left and me and the other dude reached for it almost at the same time. he asked who it is for- and i said it's for my mom/dad, so that they can drop it off for you tomorrow on the ground. he quietly withdrew his hands and wished me a good evening.

so after signing the big bill, we went to look for you; though row 10 plot 31 wasnt the easiest to find, as land markers were very small and mostly covered with growing grass.

dad looked for you. it's the first time ive seen him in the cemetery without other family members, especially mom. i thought he looked 'cold' (it was blister cold yesterday) and lonely. he's not the big man he used to be. and he carefully looked on ground, trying to figure out the plot system. and then he looked away from me and said:

'i cant find him-'

he continued to look, trying to approximate where you are. i walked on waterlogged earth to find the markers. and yes, we found you.

'dad, here he is.'
'are you sure?'
'i found the ground markers.'

you wouldve seen us, dropping you some daisies. a man dropping teeny weeny daisies for his wee son. and a monkey with empty hands, shivering from the unkind april drizzle and wind.

as we drove away, i asked him how he felt. he simply said '- it's a loss. wasteful loss.'

'he was straightening out himself, well-on track for last couple years. i think he was heading to the right direction with right kind of energy. but that doesnt matter. how wasteful.'

i suppose we wouldve paid that money for grave markers at some point for someone in the family. but as he said, what a loss. even wasteful. we'll see you once your fancy bronze things come. or no, probably on your anniversary. as of today, it's 11 months and 11 days that youve been away from us. from me. you make me feel as if a corner of my heart has crumbled, like a very old book, where pages literally disintegrate when touched.

whirlwind of april

2011-04-04T21:01:00.001-04:00

i remember looking at the calendar, thinking: hmm what is google going to do this year for april fool's gag?

well, funny enough i still havent found out, though i hear in the wind that they were trying to encourage people to use 'slow' internet to save the bandwidth or something, haha. but seriously, it's already 4th of april- where did the time go? it's been rather busy though- last week, i was busy playing the hero, rescuing a concert from cancellation- a pianist had an injury and so i was called in on monday to play on thursday. it makes me feel a bit silly that now i can actually say 'yeah, i will do it'- couple years ago, i wouldve been shivering at the very thought.

and then couple other things- recording, playing, editing, general freelancing and the logistics housework that comes with it. i feel like saying 'no' to some things yet i know that i have open summer coming up so i may as well enjoy it i suppose! and with this newly built 'wealth' (a very small scale), i even went and opened up a savings account. i figure since it costs 'me' to withdraw money from it, even if i put in 20 bucks every week, it will be something. we'll see how it goes. as long as i dont dip into it, i think it'll be alright!

and yes, april showers are here, for may flowers, supposedly. but to get there, there are couple more things i need to. there was that negotiation again with my old church, about playing for easter vigil and sunday service. the challenge is that because i was working there as a kiddie, it's almost impossible to be treated as a professional with a naughty degree. the pay isnt enough really and vigil service lasts eternity. the first reading of the seven talks about the creation of the world and i swear it feels as if it does take a whole week to just go through that. and then there's all kinds of blessing. of oil. candles. water. children. bees.

seriously. though i love the idea of easter vigil (one of these days i am hoping perhaps i could go see a greek or russian orthodox service- since they tend to have much drama in their services), but this year, i will be at the organ bench, doing volunteering with small token of 'thanks' for the cab fare (as sunday, i will need to take a cab as subway doesnt run till 9am but rehearsal does). i wasnt going to do it but then mom really wanted me to. and thinking how close it is to gabe's first anniv, i suppose there is no way to get out of it. sigh.

then it's been doing chores such as vacuuming the house, laundry, taking granny to the doctors (i really hope granny can have a pain-free bits till the end) and other sundry things. oh yeah, there's also another stack of music to learn. ive been recording myself a track a day for about a week- then it just became impossible. im wanting to get back to it... may be next wk, when im done with another recital. haha. ya right. but it's a good thing to think of, continuous footages for myself, from myself. and i like the fact i can send these bits of my day to minnow. he can see and hear monkey bits, all decoded from jumbles of zeros and ones. yay.

and i bit the bullet and bought a plane ticket for the summer, departing in june and getting back here to yyz in august. i have no idea what is going on with the citizenship stuff- i know i should stay put (and that's prob what they want) but i really do not want to put everything in life on hold because of that. though it may come back and bite me nasty on the ass *sincerely crossed fingers, wishing for the best. my best buddy PO is going to come with me for about ten days to chill out in uk with us and minnow's quite excited- he's starting to work on the second bedroom to make it nice, and we can go visit the new media city and stuff.

and then there are fragmented thoughts for my friends- i havent seen them in so long it feels! they are all over the place yet they always pop up quite easily and readily in my mind on daily basis. how nice it would be to let them know about it- even just a line: hey, i was passing by the school notice board and saw you on the juilliard prog poster! awesome! you look so pretty! haha. but so far it's been just thoughts. i feel that i owe mr bearcub a letter as well- i wonder when i am going to have the time to write one... and i want to drop a line to mr. bookbomber and the list goes on and on. i just somehow wish that these important and lovely people do know that i love them dearly. when may flower comes and school season is done, may be i will get to it then... lazy monkey! what a shame, ha.

it's like being thrown into the dryer with the rest of the laundry. one does get to keep oneself, but while it's tumbling along, it is hard to see what one really is (unless it's that one single red underwear that somehow got mixed in with the whites)- and until the cycle is finished, there's no point but to go along with the ride. but luckily, i have so many people who keep in close tap with me- especially PO and minnow. it's such a joy to open one's inbox every morning and find a piece of beautiful offering- a picture, sometimes music. often a song and a joke. and when my silly old phone goes 'beep!' i somehow know who it is. being connected through and through, how great is that!

so while i am a bit short of sleep and brain space, i am happy to share that i am well and happy, well-taken care of, thanks to PO and minnow. and also other lovely people- especially a bassoon playing bird lady, a pirate trumpet genius, bookbomber, the honest and brilliant piano technicians at school... it does not have to be often i suppose, the connection just needs be real. another group of people i want to get in touch with is the brothers and sisters of community of st. john in princeville, illinois. as church rituals and idea of renewal is coming close, especially with my brother's anniversary, i think of these joyful people in the middle of open plain, praising life (and god), and being good people. i should write to fr. nathan. not because of a religious obligation but because he have touched my heart so many times.

april is a good month so far. and i wish i would take the breather to express my thankfulness to appropriate people. however, then i may not get anything done, haha! so here it is, a small wee notes from this monkey: thanks for being who you are, my dear friends. and as e.e.cummings said: i carry your heart with me:

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

monkey practices

2011-03-26T20:27:00.001-04:00

it's been somewhat uncreative days as far as blogging is concerned. it's always on the edge of my mind, as it does make me happy to share thoughts to not-so-random-public. and there has been much conversations with monkey surroundings, things that speak audibly and things that speak silently. but it does take a fair bit of time to adjust and assess thoughts, then put it down. perhaps couple new small habits are getting in the way? it is a weird thing, one can stay out from home for a long time and do many hours of 'work,'

however, being a freelancer means that one does whole bunch of different things in the day. there are less familiarity with the days- if i was working at an office, for instance, i would have some constants: co-workers, my (rigidly confined) tasks/responsibilities, geographical logistics (path to work, home, favorite coffee spot, pick-me-up-bakeries, my working area, etc). but often such things, taken granted and even despised once in awhile (by complacency turning into menacing monotony), do free up certain percentage of one's energy i think.

a typical day can include anything from: doing nothing ( ! ) to practice, then to rehearsal (even in couple different locations within an afternoon, with different people and changing reps), or even to recording (bit different mindset from playing) or stagework. so once all these irregular hours are pegged down, only then i can start to locate time for things that i need on regular basis: going to ymca on opportunistic times to avoid michael phelps of slow lane, for instance, or even just doing laundry. getting groceries (as the idea of getting ethnic groceries from ethnic shops are just way too tempting vs. overpriced, usual, ordinary, sterile north american food aisles of big chain grocery store). sweeping the floor (it is incredible how much dust we get on 32nd floor, all that city dust being blown into the house somehow- it's literally handful everyday!).

an afternoon with two different persons is enough to do my head in, usually. i try to be attentive and make notes. and same goes for learning the reps. i was taught to always examine how i could physically play based on musical phrasing i see on the page (which leads to much cross hands, split-hands, thanks to my midget fingers, or even playing 4th finger over the pinky, etc etc., all kinds of general no-nos), which eliminates having to control two contrasting thoughts (musical vs. physical) when one is bit 'slow'; it is awesome when it's all worked out. however, often it takes a bit of time to work it out. too long! haha! so i think safely after two hours of hard-thinking, the rest of 'playing' is never at 100%, which is a bit of a pity.

and then there's that 'warm up' routine. when i decided to play and actually care for what i play (doesnt matter what/who i am playing for; should always be at least 'attempted best'), i realized that there isnt enough time to actually learn each composition to its full depth (how i miss learning one concert program for the entire month or two!). so the best way i could do for now is to have three separate sections in 'practice': mechanical check ups and drills, learning of scores, then something for myself.

(this something for myself is so important for 'accompanist,' as it is so easy to lose the identity as a 'performer' at times; it is so tempting to just degrade into 'required sound-making machine.')

any pianist could tell you about basic piano drills: scales, arpeggios, chords, etc. i used to pick up a selection of exercises, like section of hanon or czerny, and just go over it while i (shamefully) read the newspapers or something. then i realized that doesnt really help anything- im bored! so i am not aware of my own damned self! and (it) does whatever's convenient. oooeer. deadly combo. so with inputs from bookbomber and bit of a masochistic streak, i am now trying out couple different things:

*i am sorry, non-pianists, this is turning out to be rather narrow writing but i think this may be useful to some pianists, or even just general musicians.

1. scales: in all keys, contrary/parallel motions. then in pairs of minor-major. sometimes it's relative major-minor (c major and a minor, for instance), then switch hands. a bit more cynical one is major-minor of same tonic (c major and c minor). attempt contrary'parallel motion if there's bit of courage.

2. broken chords: LH broken chords and RH arpeggiated chords on major/minor basic triads. switch hands. it'll be something like: (c-e-g-c') vs. (c-g-e-c'). all keys. or attempt.

3. arpeggios: dim 7th arpeggios along with dominant 7th arpeggios. parallel and contrary.

4. scales- octaves: hands in contrary/parallel motion. try grouping in 2, 3, 5, 7, 9. this is not so easy, i think i must be too slow.

5. mirror hands practice: a piano keyboard is symmetrical from midpoint D (black key- white- white...) when hands are actually moving parallel, the fingers are not. this is why simple octave passages can be so hairy for pianists: ex. end of the schubert trout quintet, last mvt. sounds the same, feels not same at all! arrrgh. but if you put your thumbs on D and see your hands 'away' from D, it is... voila, symmetrical! i find this useful to 'stretch out' my hands, playing intervals such as 9th and 10th, thumb active, hands low, fingers relaxed.

6. mirror practice with variation: you can also mix in different groupings,
ex. 2 vs. 3: (d-c) vs (d-e-f), which will line up every 7th
ex. 3 vs. 5: (d--c-b) vs (d-e-f-g-a), which will line up every 16th
and this, you can do all kinds, and once in awhile, im kind to myself to do both hands in sync, 7-7 or something.

so it's bit eclectic and i think it takes about good 1 to 1.5 hours. it is a long time to put on for 'warm up,' but i do find now 'learning' scores much easier, as my hands have better idea of executing what my little brain wants to do. i also wonder how long i would keep this up. i wonder if it'll become eaiser?! the most nice thing about it is that it requires most of monkey brain. i have to concentrate, no more thinking of lunches and other stuff... boo. hahaha.

and it is also a nice thing to opening up my ears to so-called 'dissonance.' this dissonance thing is such a bugger to pianists who sticks to traditional repertoire. anything hindemith-y, you see pianists go cross-eyed very often. haha. dont get me wrong, i didnt really dig them either. it's only after years and years of listening to non-classical music and getting used to the 'whacked out harmonies' (or the lack thereof) that made me willing to hear it carefully. dim 7 and dom 7 together in arpeggios sound pretty awesome now, i have to say. and yes- because it is physically difficult, i do listen 'more.'

so a meager explanation on 'why' i havent been writing. i think i prob spend the best portion of my head on these drills now (it's new regimen this year! it's exciting! haha!) and then there's the 'playing something for self' that gets in the way. this wk, ive been trying to record one short track per day. like a single bach prelude. then this also takes up at least an hour, i find. how crazy is that!! but may be one day, i will have one single track that i like, from all the ones that added to it. yesterday, between two over-an-hour rehearsals and looking for pants zippers (and impulse shopping) ( ! ), i didnt have a take that i thought was even passable, for me to watch in privacy with a key to the entire distillery. pity.

but i think it's worthwhile to find the way to enjoy one's working process. it is a great thing to play an instrument. kinestatic, intellectual, emotional, all these wonderful things can be present and a simple thing, such as a well balanced chord can be such a joy. and i am lucky to have friends, like the book bomber who continues to add more ideas for me to decadently enjoy myself.

what do you do to keep yourself happy at your tasks? if you can think of couple things, i bet you are already a happier being than the average. it is a luxury to find joy in the things that one 'has to do.' if you are a bit short on that list, take time and try something different! as i am going to try this minor-major business once again. with much laughter at failing such 'simple' task. life is imple, not always easy yet has the potential to be every so beautiful. love to you all.