I think I'm officially in hardcore practice mode now.
Third day in a row I was at the school well past midnight.
Tonight I was there until after 3am.
I love the night janitor at the school, who lets me into the hall to practice.
It was a good and a bad night for practicing. Early on and even until 2am it didn't feel like I had accomplished anything... at 2 am, I did pretty much a run through of Bach and Beethoven parts.
Just after that, I did another run through of everything memorized in those... I forced myself to go all the way through the Beethoven. My first time performing it as a single entity. The piece makes some sense, I just hope I can do it justice by cleaning up my fingers..
The first run through was pretty rough for both pieces... the second time through the Beethoven, it was considerably better... enough that I am confident I will have an acceptable version of it to present at my recital. Damn those tricky bits!
Bach is almost memorized now... except for the Sarabande... and the outside parts of the Overture really don't want to stick... basically I can't memorize slow Bach for shit.
In other news, the Sax class was tonight, and it went quite well. Apparently whatever I did to fake my way through those impossible little sections was convincing enough. Anyway, the saxophonist was happy with our performance, and she should be, she got a very good mark from the adjudicator, and some really top notch comments.
Tomorrow I will have very big pupils.... let hope I don't have diabetic retinopathy to go with them!! I hope my eyeglass Rx hasn't changed, as I can't afford new glasses.
2 comments:
I, too, am under this cursed "staying up way too fucking late" plan - it's quarter to five and I'm reading blogs and early editions of western newspapers (interestingly enough covering the same stuff that the European rags I read have already worked over).
I'm doing crosswords, sudokus, and writing about the machine of death. Insomnia is not what you're suffering from, but I've got a healthy taste in my mouth - and it's creeping ever so slowly - whether it goes for the heart or the brain is my solitary concern - however I don't know which I fear the most.
The only good thing about these bouts I go through is that drinking red wine and taking a pile of T3's isn't just for fun anymore... it's a blissful 45 minute cat nap before "waking up" to face a new day of boring lectures and 18 year old know-it-alls who have splendidly wonderful insights into the ramblings of half dead poets and the meaning of soggy cheerio patterns in their breakfast bowls.
I'm yawning, sure, but it's just my body pretending to care. It's through these lookin' balls that my body gets a glimpse first hand at what I'm going through. Too tired to be aware of its own pain and fatigue, too awake to submit. As soon as I stop writing I'll go back to more news editions - reading how each editor shapes the story to fit whichever agenda is being pushed by whichever advertiser today.
I feel like a 21st century Spider Jerusalem, looking out on the dirge that this city, countty, and world is moaning for themselves.
Something changes, something clicks... all of a sudden I'm consumed with energy - though just as soon as it came, it left - these are the oddities of everyone's lives. The difference is that when it's the middle of the night in a frosty city, you have no option but to be intimately aware of yourself.
I consider these days both blessings and hauntings. Without them, a simple nap loses its appeal. With them, the phrasing "simple nap" seems to be another slap in the face delivered by a cruel existence.
good night
Ah, now this makes sense... I had no idea who wrote this until you told me in person....
Anyway, I enjoyed the comment,and I'm always glad to see a sign that someone's reading...
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