I have a desk job. It encroaches on my practice time, but does allow me to eat regularly, so I've come to accept that for now, it is a compromise I will just have to live with. My desk job is actually pretty neat. I have amazing hours, great benefits, and I work in a crazy but amazing industry of which I cannot speak on the internet. I am allowed to listen to music at my desk.
My ipod is amazing. What an amazing tool! How many hours of bliss it contains! From ridiculous indie rock to Perlman and Heifetz, to Simon & Garfunkel, all on one little contraption. Amazing. Usually, I just set it to shuffle and go on my merry way, but a few weeks ago, I made a mistake.
Perlman! Gil Shaham! Maxim Vengerov! Ysaye! Pablo de Sarasate! Bartok! Paganini!
And there I sat, attempting to work when so many masters were parading by in all their perfection and beauty. And there I sat, feeling certain that I had been struck by lightening. My hands trembled and I swear I felt heat, literal heat, traveling through my fingers. The intensity and excitement I felt was bordering on spiritual.
And then the phone rang. Responsibility and practicality was calling my name.
I went home that night and practiced good and hard for a few hours.
The next day, I chose a ridiculous indie rock play list and decided to leave my virtuosi at home.
More entries: October 2010
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