Monday, June 16, 2003
This is the worlds shittiest violin player, playing just for my grandma |3:20 PM| Portal owns a violin, bought through mail order. It is, according to her, not the best violin in the world. Her parents didn't pay for classes, and then wondered why she didn't improve, or stick with it. She has told me not to belittle the violin in public, as she's afraid it might upset her parents.
As you may or may not recall, reader person, I love the violin. I may have mentioned on this blog about how after (or even before) piano lessons as a kid, I would sneak around the building in order to listen to the other kids play the violin. I was told during high school by the music teacher that she would be unable to teach a trumpet player the violin. I still haven't the slightest idea why. At the time this was quite a roadblock, as neither I nor my parents had the cash to pay for paying for lessons for a musical instrument. Especially since I sucked ass at school at the time.
What this comes down to is I finally have access to a violin without renting or purchasing it, and I have free time during the week. The debate has become to take guitar or violin lessons. I'm not going to pay money to learn the blasted didjeridu if I can possibly avoid it. It's a plastic tube for crying out loud. Back to the subject at hand, violin, or guitar? Also, diligent readers of this blog will make side bets of "How long will he remain interested in this current pursuit?". If my father hadn't taken his guitar back I might still be building calluses.
More sad news. My Grandmother (the non dead one) is in the hospital. She's already had her gall bladder removed in the last 3 days. I didn't even think humans still had a gall bladder that was removable, but since I've also heard of "Gall stones" it's clear I just never gave gall bladders much thought. Gall in general is something I only considered while reading Hamlet, and wondering about the livers of pigeons.
My grandmother is at this point, quite demented. To the point that my father recovered a $6000 check just by cleaning the living room of her house, and that she has stopped listening to any legal advice from the people she pays for such information. This means that her estate, as it stands, is going to vanish almost entirely into the coffers of the U.S. Government upon her death, which could be quite soon.
I feel awfully sorry for my father, he had to drive to Murray, Kentucky to clean up the affairs of his now dying mother. I see it as the inevitable, especially with her decline over the past few years. I'm sure it certainly isn't like that for my dad. This is one of those few times I'm just not sure how my dad feels. He's probably losing himself in the tasks at hand, the cleaning of the house, the anger of dealing with finances, the paper associated with removing his mother's control over her own life... He's quiet when things like this are occurring. I wonder at what point he taught me to lose myself in the work of foul moments, that the responsbilities of the mundane tasks were a kind of freedom, as they were a logical response to events with no other possible "reasonable" reaction.
Back to comedy sooner or later, I'm sure. Lizards, Grandmothers, bad music. Give me a bit of time here, folks.
This is the worlds shittiest violin player, playing just for my grandma |3:20 PM| Portal owns a violin, bought through mail order. It is, according to her, not the best violin in the world. Her parents didn't pay for classes, and then wondered why she didn't improve, or stick with it. She has told me not to belittle the violin in public, as she's afraid it might upset her parents.
As you may or may not recall, reader person, I love the violin. I may have mentioned on this blog about how after (or even before) piano lessons as a kid, I would sneak around the building in order to listen to the other kids play the violin. I was told during high school by the music teacher that she would be unable to teach a trumpet player the violin. I still haven't the slightest idea why. At the time this was quite a roadblock, as neither I nor my parents had the cash to pay for paying for lessons for a musical instrument. Especially since I sucked ass at school at the time.
What this comes down to is I finally have access to a violin without renting or purchasing it, and I have free time during the week. The debate has become to take guitar or violin lessons. I'm not going to pay money to learn the blasted didjeridu if I can possibly avoid it. It's a plastic tube for crying out loud. Back to the subject at hand, violin, or guitar? Also, diligent readers of this blog will make side bets of "How long will he remain interested in this current pursuit?". If my father hadn't taken his guitar back I might still be building calluses.
More sad news. My Grandmother (the non dead one) is in the hospital. She's already had her gall bladder removed in the last 3 days. I didn't even think humans still had a gall bladder that was removable, but since I've also heard of "Gall stones" it's clear I just never gave gall bladders much thought. Gall in general is something I only considered while reading Hamlet, and wondering about the livers of pigeons.
My grandmother is at this point, quite demented. To the point that my father recovered a $6000 check just by cleaning the living room of her house, and that she has stopped listening to any legal advice from the people she pays for such information. This means that her estate, as it stands, is going to vanish almost entirely into the coffers of the U.S. Government upon her death, which could be quite soon.
I feel awfully sorry for my father, he had to drive to Murray, Kentucky to clean up the affairs of his now dying mother. I see it as the inevitable, especially with her decline over the past few years. I'm sure it certainly isn't like that for my dad. This is one of those few times I'm just not sure how my dad feels. He's probably losing himself in the tasks at hand, the cleaning of the house, the anger of dealing with finances, the paper associated with removing his mother's control over her own life... He's quiet when things like this are occurring. I wonder at what point he taught me to lose myself in the work of foul moments, that the responsbilities of the mundane tasks were a kind of freedom, as they were a logical response to events with no other possible "reasonable" reaction.
Back to comedy sooner or later, I'm sure. Lizards, Grandmothers, bad music. Give me a bit of time here, folks.
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