A take off of a semi-feature on Robyn's blog...
- - - - -
Dear Connor,
It's been a while, I know. I want to continue your story, but you've been out of my head for a while. Please, will you come back? I really do miss you. You and this story of yours has been too enjoyable for you to stay out much longer. If you need a break, I understand, but can you at least assure me you'll come back sometime in the foreseeable future?
Missing you,
~g2
A telegram addressed to My Living Quarters:
Enough is enough. Stop. Upon my return this evening prepare for an intense excavation. Stop. Although I will be exhausted from my piano lesson no mercy will be shown. Stop.
You have been warned. Stop.
Querida amiga,
He pensado mucho en tí recientamente. Mientras sienta un poquitin raro en una parte de mi mente que estás con alguien, estoy alegre para tí. El es inteligente, maduro, y fuerte y franco en sus opiniones, y son buenas calidades, pienso. Las fallas solas que puedo encontrar en él: lleva casi demaciado negro, y a veces habla entre dientes. Pero, no son detalles enormes, creo. Espero que cosas pasen bien para ustedes. De todos modos digo que has escogido bien.
Siempre aquí,
~g2
PS: Yay for chances to use subjunctive! ^^
My dearest Oliver,
Thank you so much for helping me prepare everything: the competition a few weeks ago, my audition yesterday, and the other auditions to come. I'll certainly miss you next year, but I'll be close enough that I can come home to you easily.
Between you and The Piano Teacher I can't thank you enough. You two have been all too good to me.
Much love,
~g2
To: Gen. Nonsense
First, I've some disappointing news to report. I've done some digging, and I believe that majors are indeed higher than captains. I admit that it's a bit disheartening to think that Disaster, Third, and especially Distraction are all ahead of me... and to think! I'm the oldest in the rank! Ah well, it is what it is.
Second, as far as chronicling our group goes: I was thinking we could describe the members and then decide on various episodic adventures. We can brainstorm, yes?
Third: bink.
~Cpt. Obvious
Paulito & Nikki,
I just wanted to thank you guys for being such hoopy writing friends, and indeed hoopy friends in general. Distance may separate us three, but that has yet to be a real deterrent. I've missed talking with you two as of late, but I hope fate decides to allow our paths to cross again very, very soon.
Not panicking,
~g2
Showing posts with label Oliver. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Oliver. Show all posts
12 December 2009
07 August 2009
SoP 44: "I Love a Piano" and Oliver (a haiku)
I Love a Piano
Irving Berlin
(Sung by Michael Feinstein... the song starts at 32:55 if it's not already set there)
- - - - -
Oh, my sweet Ollie,
How you and I can both sing
With iv'ry, ebony!
- - - - -
I've written about my dear Oliver before, most recently here.
Irving Berlin
(Sung by Michael Feinstein... the song starts at 32:55 if it's not already set there)
- - - - -
Oh, my sweet Ollie,
How you and I can both sing
With iv'ry, ebony!
- - - - -
I've written about my dear Oliver before, most recently here.
23 February 2009
Musings of a Pianistic Sort
I say I'm the Irish pianist, and yet I've only mentioned my piano once or twice. For shame, me, for shame! I think I should devote a whole entry to my instrument of choice, don't you agree?
Well, even if you didn't I'd still go ahead and do so.
Now then, I think it's only fair to talk a bit about my personal instrument. My piano, but I think of him (yes, it's a he) as a really, really good friend. I mean, how could he not? I spend upward to two hours daily, you kind of have to be able to put up with someone. A beautiful matte finish, a gorgeous tone, a marvelous touch (when it's not stiff in the summer), and the original ivory-topped keys. There's some thing about the feel of ivory that just can't be matched by plastic, that velvety touch cannot be manufacured. There's a great deal that can't be made by machine, especially in an 1889 Steinway.
Oh yes, I forgot to mention... -swallows, slightly embarassed- it's kind of a Steinway concert grand piano. We had to "give up" our dining room to be able to fit this nine-foot piano (that belongs in a concet hall, mind you) into our tiny house. It was practically a gift from friends of ours who were downsizing and only had it as a piece of furniture. They were thrilled that I'd be playing it as much as I have, and do. I've recently decided to name him Oliver. Oliver Cross, in honor of the friends who gave him to us. I've also decided to call him Ollie for short.
With the help of our insanely awesome piano tuner, we've been trying to piece together the story of Oliver, an I think I may want to write about it someday. We haven't gotten too far, but it's coming, and we've also found a few signatures here and there on the actual piano.
He's really helped me develop, Ollie has. I've prepared for a couple local competitions, one international, performed a few times, and began my college audition pieces on that piano. There have been a few conversations at that piano, a couple rough moments over the ivories, but Ollie's never faltered. Aside from the occasional out of tine key or sticky bit of the action, or even those two snapped bass-Fs,but it's not his fault. He's 120 years old, what do you expect?
I've told quite people I've yet to be in a relationship, and I say I'm perfectly content in that circumstance, but now that I think on t, that's not true. I guess theres quite the "thing" between Oliver and I, but there has to be that kind of relationship between a performer and her instrument for there to be any success.
Well, even if you didn't I'd still go ahead and do so.
Now then, I think it's only fair to talk a bit about my personal instrument. My piano, but I think of him (yes, it's a he) as a really, really good friend. I mean, how could he not? I spend upward to two hours daily, you kind of have to be able to put up with someone. A beautiful matte finish, a gorgeous tone, a marvelous touch (when it's not stiff in the summer), and the original ivory-topped keys. There's some thing about the feel of ivory that just can't be matched by plastic, that velvety touch cannot be manufacured. There's a great deal that can't be made by machine, especially in an 1889 Steinway.Oh yes, I forgot to mention... -swallows, slightly embarassed- it's kind of a Steinway concert grand piano. We had to "give up" our dining room to be able to fit this nine-foot piano (that belongs in a concet hall, mind you) into our tiny house. It was practically a gift from friends of ours who were downsizing and only had it as a piece of furniture. They were thrilled that I'd be playing it as much as I have, and do. I've recently decided to name him Oliver. Oliver Cross, in honor of the friends who gave him to us. I've also decided to call him Ollie for short.
With the help of our insanely awesome piano tuner, we've been trying to piece together the story of Oliver, an I think I may want to write about it someday. We haven't gotten too far, but it's coming, and we've also found a few signatures here and there on the actual piano.
He's really helped me develop, Ollie has. I've prepared for a couple local competitions, one international, performed a few times, and began my college audition pieces on that piano. There have been a few conversations at that piano, a couple rough moments over the ivories, but Ollie's never faltered. Aside from the occasional out of tine key or sticky bit of the action, or even those two snapped bass-Fs,but it's not his fault. He's 120 years old, what do you expect?
I've told quite people I've yet to be in a relationship, and I say I'm perfectly content in that circumstance, but now that I think on t, that's not true. I guess theres quite the "thing" between Oliver and I, but there has to be that kind of relationship between a performer and her instrument for there to be any success.
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