Tuesday, 18 November 2008

Shostakovitch continued

Ok, so I told you where we went yesterday on the last post. Today I'll try to describe it. I've been a bit up the last week. Our seats were front row, centre. For that sort of chamber music, I always think get as close as possible. I could have spat on the 1st violinist's foot, we were that close.

I welled up during the Beethoven, and got control. Then came the Shostakovitch. The string quartet number eight. Within a minute I knew I was going to blub. I stared and stared at the grey painted stage boxes in front of us and tried to think of anything but the music I was hearing. I lost five minutes of the performance in my head simply to not make an exhibition of myself. But I ask! Why shouldn't I have made an exhibition of myself? For christ's sake, it's one of the most tragic pieces of music from the 20th century. I've loved it for years and wept to it many a time at home. The reason - the utter reason I wanted to hold myself in is that we were so close I didn't want to put the musicians off if I let the tears roll down.

Does this sound ridiculous?

I don't know.

Anyway, after the performance, there was one of those German Christmas markets in the centre of Brum, so we wandered around, had a drink, mingled, etc. My head was flipping a bit. I don't know if I can explain this correctly, but sometimes I get a visual feeling that I'm looking through rippling water. Had that bad. It was very pleasant. I've learned to enjoy my experiences when they're harmless enough. We ended up stood at a table with some tattooed skinheads. At some point they accused my wife (all jocular like) of knocking their "bag of biscuits" over. I gave them a belligerent smile because I could have knocked all their blocks off in the mood I was in and helped them up afterwards, and strangely everything was fine. There was a helter-skelter that I was dying to go on, but kept control of myself, and a merry-go-round that was the real biz. And there was a stall smothered in these frankfurters... like huge scarlet heaps of horse cocks! We both regretted not having one of them! Oh dear, I'm damning myself with every word I write. What the point is, is that we had a great evening, and even though I was fizzing like a bad one, or a whole pack of alkaseltzers in a shot glass, we still were good, contained, enjoying, etc. Why do I bother writing this shit down?

Anyway, I'm in the mood for opening up. Here are poems, and here are photos. As the statement up on the top left has it - respect my anonymity, but here are a couple of windows.

Keep safe everyone.

---- p.s. I forgot to mention the sensation of feeling a thousand filaments coming out of my head connecting to all the other people - not in a communicative manner - just a safe solidarity of sorts.

2 comments:

Marian said...

Great poems! Great photos! ("The Coffee Isn't Working" - could be me :D )

Abysmal Musings said...

Thanks Marian! :-) I find coffee a relaxing beverage, personally! The days of it being a pick me up seem to have vanished. Take care, D.