Comments

would you care posting the full bio? Ha, there is no way I would display that publicly! Some people would take me seriously! ;) Impossible to write something completely divorced from all truth and meaning I think.

They didn't save it to tease or harass you with. They saved and shared a pleasant memory. Note to self unnecessary I'd say.

I'm going to have to write an entire blog on that comment. On the other hand, who really knows what the hell they had in mind. No, not that one, the first one. Well, Emily my favorite response was you performed later in the program and Phil said "wow, I thought 180 beats per minute was a joke!"

And at least, Phil's pronunciation of "Galamian" was way closer than his "Jascha Heifitz" (and I'm sure I'm spelling it wrong!)

However, the MC's most sincere statement for me was "life is just more worth living because of Emily Grossman." I count it a privaledge to play 2nd to your 1st!

(See, I can still say nice things, even though you stole half my violins as we were going onstage for the youth orchestra's turn!)

My apologies for my self-editing.

It was a long drive home!

Anyone can play a whole note at 180--it's so relative; that was the joke, but now that you mention it, I notice that 180 is a good tempo for the Saint Saens.

I only stole the violins because I thought they would get a kick out of the violinist poster child on the wall down the hall. It was a priceless photo, one that is trying way too hard to make playing the violin look cool to teenageres and failing miserably. It's good to have something to laugh about before performing.

Ok, I look forward to reading it to understand what you mean. I see unfortunately hard livin' has re-wired me to read it as some vague challenge. I want dream images, and frolic and felicity. Perhaps I should insert more disarming smiley faces after my comments. :) :) :)

I have some thoughts about tounge-and-cheek biographies and kernels of truth, my subconscious mind, the desire for honest humility versus the darker desire to be glorified and worshiped--which I'm not ready to openly admit and perpetually struggling against--but perhaps I'm not ready to write about that sort of thing after all. It's not very fluffy or felicitous.

That's not necessarily a dark desire. It isn't in my case. What happens next is the important thing, what it inspires you to do, not thinking of it as an end in itself. That's the secret, maybe. In other words, consider it a powerful fuel that can enable mankind to go where no man has gone before...or just blow up in a gas station in Idaho...or just sit forever in a tanker while someone wishes it wasn't there.