Remembering part of what I'd wanted to include in the previous entry before it got so long...
While hanging out in my kitchen, we got to talking about,
among other things, how
dmk knew me before I grew
my beard, when I was still a beginner on guitar. Somehow this
resulted in my having to tell
bill_in_germany a
couple of stories about Ray, my second roommate, the paranoid
one. (Not to be confused with Joe, my first roommate and
roommate of shortest duration, or Roger, my third and fuzziest
roommate (aka "Rogest", 'cause there was nobody more Rog than
him)). Entertaining memories of the University of Dallas.
And last night and this morning I spent a little more time on the piano. Between attention-span problems and just not wanting any more frustration at the time, I decided to just play tunes I know instead of working on getting that thumb cross-under smooth. (Hey, any student needs some time to work on fun tunes as well as the disciplined practice time learning the next bit of technique -- gotta keep it fresh and keep the enthusiasm up.) But I did decide to brave a simple left-hand part -- I picked the first "two parts on one guitar" tune I'd ever learned (and still the only one I do halfway decently [Edit 17:15 -- I just remembered, I can also do the first half of J.S. Bach's "Bourée" on guitar.]), for the same reason I'd picked it on guitar so many years ago: the bass part is bog simple, so it's just coordination rather than split attention plus coordination. It's a German lute piece called "Tanz" (which I'm sure isn't a unique title), and the left had part just goes D-A-d over and over. (I think of it as "the thumb part" on guitar. And it's just the bottom three open strings in dropped-D tuning.)
Three notes, rythmically simple, it was still enough to cross me up, but not impossible. So call it a confidence-builder. But it's an interesting brain-sensation to play it so far ... Like "Norwegian Dance From Hungary #1", I'm remembering the physical sensation of how my left hand moves on guitar, translating that to a fret-and-string combination, converting that to a note, and finally making my right hand move to play that note on the piano. But when I do it for "Tanz", my left hand is actually moving in completely different ways than the left-hand sensations I'm remembering to pull the melody out of my brain. This will, of course, get easier as I practice the tune so that I'm just remembering how to play it on piano instead of remembering it on guitar and translating nerve signals on the fly. And it'll get easier when I get better at going directly from hearing an interval in my head to knowing where to put the next finger without thinking about the guitar equivalent first. But I confess that I'm dreading the learning curve for reading for piano, turning dots into muscle movements for both hands at the same time.
Playing the tune that started this current round of piano interest is different, because even though I composed it on a guitar, I wrote it down recently enough that I can still see the dots in my head if I want to. And playing the ubiquitous saltarello or "Lamento di Tristano" are different because I've attempted each of those on harp before (and I think I tried the lament on hammered dulcimer once), so they're not bound to guitar proprioception in my brain any more. But it'll be interesting to see what happens when I try "Rights of Man" or "Swallowtail", and mandolin muscle memory enters the mix. Hmm. And I should try a tune I know entirely on recorder, just to see what that's like. Ooh, brain experiments and music at the same time, what fun. As long as I'm not being graded on my lab notebook.
Annnnnd ... there goes the attention span again. Time to step away from the keyboard.
(no subject)
(no subject)
I can't complain about how quickly I'm progressing considering how little time I've put into it so far. But I'm still a ways from being able to play anything I'd want someone else to hear.
Paranoid?
That was HIS? Not yours??? I do remember him joking about paranoia...I think in relation to a favorite pastime of his. Maybe I should just be glad I can remember any of it at all. Roger.....can't place him.
I'm in fibro-fog hell..........
Re: Paranoid?
He showed up, commented on the poster, and a couple of us ... I think
dmk was the other person ... teased him about how of course the ink contained a contact poison.
About three days later he finally said, "Moonunit, do you realize that poster is crooked?"
"Yes," I answered, "Three degrees."
His face did funny things for a few seconds before he blurted out, "You measured it?!"
A few days later I tilted it the same amount in the opposite direction. (I forgot to mention that detail yesterday.)
Standard line #1: I never said I was nice. <evil grin>
Re: Paranoid?
I didn't know about the poison. That's just hysterical. I can just hear him in my mind's ear sputtering out the "You measured it?" query.
You ARE nice. You were just trying to live it down. You were always more scary than he (to me, anyway.) I only realized that (or re-realized it) this evening. Long drives are hazardous to my (limited) mental health.
Re: Paranoid?
He was pretty sure we were joking about the poison, but he wasn't absolutely sure, so he wouldn't touch the poster with bare skin.
And I wasn't really trying to live down the nice thing -- it's perfectly fine for other people to call me nice -- but I'm careful not to say it myself specifically so that I can continue to use that line after I've done something eeevil. ;-)
Actually, I never understood folks finding me scary (though I do understand not finding Ray scary. But apparently some folks really worried that I was dangerous in some nebulous, unspecified way. Confused the heck out of me.
Scary
I can't speak for others finding you scary. For me....it wasn't a bad scary exactly. Dangerous? No, perhaps unpredictable would fit better there. And that quality is attractive at the same time that it's scary/nerve-wracking. There was no darkness in him and there is in you (or was; don't know now.)
Darkness isn't a bad thing. It's an element, an aspect, a source (for me a source of art, of bdsm, and, however strange this may seem, of compassion and empathy.)
My own darkness feeds whatever it is in me that some people call intimidating. It's controlled now in a way that was impossible in my past. I don't fight its existence and I don't succumb to it. (If that makes any sense. Still in the #$%% fog.) Still reeling from earlier private exchange, too.