06.24.07

2007 June 25-30

Posted in Uncategorized at 9:35 pm by Miracle ♪♫

                        "Not a Day Without a Line"

Starting today, June 25, 2007 The Daily Pliny
  will be an attempt to discipline my writing
              habits the Older Pliny way.

     As you may have surmised, the title is
       a nutty variant of The Daily Planet. 

Until I reach another inevitable writing fermata,
I shall do my best to update this post everyday.

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June 25, 2007
Monday, Monday
Although Sunday is the decreed alpha of a week, Mondays have
always been a week’s commencement for me – just like the preponderance of the
earth’s population. The thing that might
however set me apart from the same majority is the fact that I like
Mondays.

Monday means another start of my daily regimen, and regardless
of the actuality that some people cannot find anything exciting about that, I still
look forward to it weekly. As much as I
delight in closures, resolutions, and satisfying endings, I equally hanker for
beginnings… and I have to say that Today began satisfactorily with Rachmaninov’s
Variations on a theme of Paganini.

My schedule was in disarray last week, but for a respectable
reason. We had visiting artist/photographers
from Manila and the reading and practicing schedules were superseded for augmented
hours at the espresso machine, ginataang crabs almost every night (Yipee! I’m
reminded of Jeremiah), eating out (which was also a good thing since it saved
me from an ample amount of dish washing), and simply observing and listening to
these lovely people. Last week turned
out to be another example of an oxymoron; it was a hectic vacation. To top it
off, if I am allowed to consider yesterday part of last week, our family took a trip to Ozamis along with Lester and Haidee. Like impulsive kids with ADHD, we left at thirty minutes past four in
the afternoon – which is normally regarded too late for a three-hour
drive. Yet, off we went and ended up
having a delectable dinner at Dewberry Coffee and arrived home at nearly twelve
midnight.  We went to Ozamis just to eat, and we’ve done that twice already, the first time with Achi Joy’s family - how wacky is that?

Today is Monday, June 25, 2007 and the clock in the nearby
church is striking twelve noon.  I still
have half a day to go… who knows what today may bring? All I know is that it
started just pleasantly, and I am happy.
—
June 25, 2007 Continued
My heart got introduced to a witty heart for the first time.

The skies are impartial today, rightly apportioning sunshine in the morning and gentle showers in the afternoon. 

Mama’s freshly-baked wheat bread with my espresso for post meridian break… hmm…
I love my life.
———————————————————————-
June 26, 2007
I Can’t See You
Dreamland seemed amply lifelike last night - much too
realistic, in fact.

I am one prone to dreams both diurnal and nocturnal, and
usually in my waking moments, am aware of what subconsciously motivated each
specific mental image. Last night was
different. The colors, sensations,
dialogue, and emotions, can still be remembered succinctly, but I am continued
to be baffled by its antecedent and the dream itself.

I was married to a young university professor. Not a music professor as anyone might have conjectured.
He was a very intelligent man whose face my dream successfully concealed.

They were warm, his hands. I remember holding them. My own
seemed like a child’s in his large hands. I loved him with all my heart. I
was dedicated in caring for him, and my heart went out to him…he was blind.

The unseen narrator of the dream abstractly explained that
the young professor and I had been married very recently, but he was involved
in an accident a few weeks after our wedding and tragically never regained
his sight.

He was nearly forced to surrender his professorship, but I knew
by heart how much he loved teaching that I proposed to become his assistant and
aid him, and wholeheartedly “become his eyes.”

In an empty classroom just before the dream ended, birds
were chirping outside the window. It was
the magic hour. It was the
gloaming.
The sky cast an ethereal hue.

He covered his face with his hands.

“I can’t see you,” he sobbed.

I whispered, “You see me more than anyone else does.”

Then I woke up…and spent nearly an hour staring at the
ceiling.
Dear me, what was that all about?
———————————————————————-
June 27, 2007
Climbing a Portion of Parnassus
…and so my day began.
We had Popped Gradus ad Parnassum for breakfast, courtesy of my friend
David. (Fortunate are you who understand.) Gramercy to David, for because of him I was led to finally scrutinize what Gradus ad Parnassum meant. I admit how pathetic it must seem to have
said that phrase oftentimes, and play Debussy’s composition repeatedly
without even having an inkling of what it connotes. (Oh great teachers of music, latin, and
literature, I deserve an F.)

Well, permit me a cliché this time – better late than
never.  This is what I learned;
Gradus ad Parnassum literally means “Steps to Parnassus,” and
since Mount Parnassus happened to be the home of the
nine goddesses of the arts in Greek mythology, the phrase has been adopted to
associate or indicate books of instruction, or guides to making progress in arts
including literature, and music. In
addition to that, ever accessible Wiki presents us with a brief presentation of
how the phrase has been used in history.

Gradus ad Parnassum is the name of a seminal textbook on counterpoint
written by Johann Joseph Fux in 1725, but used well into the 20th century for
instruction in musical theory and composition. Leopold Mozart is said to have
taught his son Wolfgang from its pages. Bach and Beethoven both held it in great esteem, and Haydn meticulously
worked out each of its exercises.

Gradus ad Parnassum is also a collection of instructional piano
pieces by Muzio Clementi.

Doctor Gradus ad Parnassum is a satirical piano composition by Claude
Debussy, from his suite Children’s Corner,
poking fun at Muzio Clementi’s collection.

Yes sir, Dibid Tsin! This is what I
grasped this morning other than the realization that you are one brilliant
composer.
———————————————————————-
June 28, 2007
Inhale, Exhale
The internet connection ebbed away for hours today.
*Chants*
I should not grumble.
I should not be dependent on the internet.
I should not be enslaved to Friendster, Multiply, or YM.
*Inhale, Exhale*

I just had a lesson with Mariel.
Beethoven’s Tempest Sonata…
and after the last note,
that last sigh,
that last zephyr after the tempest,
I am content.
I adulate Beethoven…
I hold my students dear…
I thank God for this life.

Yes… of course, there’s much, much more to life than just the internet!

Note: This portion is an indirect message for Mae to ease her despair
for the meantime of not having internet connection at home.
*teasing
grin*
———————————————————————-
June 29, 2007
Hail to the Blogger: To Us Who Bleed
Click Here to Read
———————————————————————-
June 30, 2007
Consenting Tonsils
My tonsils cooperated very well with my students
today.  The tonsils somehow foreknew that the kids were not able to
practice the past week thus inflaming themselves today so that I could maintain
a sweet voice despite my students’ “malpractice”.  I should still accept
it as a blessing – I’m positive my students did! Hu hu hu… It sure hurts.
———————————————————————-

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