I love that my molecules dance at the same frequency as sound. This means that I am tuned in to music at the cellular level, and feel the resonance all through my being. When I sing, I can feel the vibration in the mask, and stay on pitch. My ear is one of the best my piano teacher ever worked with. Like, I didn't do any of this. It is all a gift from HP. I got born with it, like my little toes that wiggle and my short, fat eyeballs. I just watched Impromptu, a smarmy period soap opera of Georges Sand's pursuit of a somewhat reluctant Chopin, while Lizst's wife procreates abundantly in the background, and launches her own abortive campaign. Whatever, I got to hear a lot of wondrous chromatic pieces hammered away on the Steinway, rubato, of course. And the young Hugh Grant did a great job of portraying the frail, shy guy that Chopin was. Judy Davis was at her bitchy best, and Julian Sand played Lizst, who was the very first rock star. Really, women threw themselves on the stage when he performed. Funnily enough, he ended his rather long life in monastic garb. Not sure if his life reflected his dress though. I hope to meet up with these folks in the afterlife. As with most artists, authors, and composers, they all appeared to be well marinated in wine. Spirits for the free spirits. It was all satire and sexual sabotage. Not much has changed, except that we are now an awful lot less civilized. Maybe it was the starched collars?
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