This Has Got To STOP!
Somebody last night gave me a coupla freebie tickets to the Russian National Orchestra. Cool, hey!
I was thinking of fobbing them off actually, maybe trying to scalp them. The fact that they had $0.00 printed on them might not help I am sure.
When I came home last night after too many drinks with T and Milos and others and plonked the tickets on the table, Izzy was still up, on her Mac on the dining room table, blogging about the book I'd given her, Taming the Beast, and I started raving about Russian Opera for some reason, got it totally mixed up in my mind, but she said she'd love to go. I had no idea at the time what they'd be playing. Turns out it was Beethoven's 7th and Brahms Concerto for violin and cello - and though we both slept through most of the Brahms, the Beethoven was fantastic. Good call to go. Totally fantastic.
We were in the fifth row of the stalls, excellent seats, not even considering they were free. As the orchestra walked in, I whispered to Izzy that Russian women are gorgeous. There were seven or so female musicians and at least three of them were stunningly beautiful. Two were dogs, and the others were facing away from me so who knows.
Once the first Beethoven piece got under way I gradually took my eyes from the lovely tall slim blonde women, two in the back of the 1st violins, one was the second cellist, all with intelligent concentrated expressions and displaying marvelous feeling for the music as it rose and fell in emotive flow (how could you not fall in love)... and looked at the rest of the orchestra. A couple of the guys were total geeks, sure enough brilliant musicians, but should be playing competition chess or something to enhance their social life.
I noticed one of the male cellists flopping his long black hair back from falling over his eyes. I had a buddy in Sydney with hair like this and the girls used to fall for him every time. I wondered if Izzy had seen him. Silly me...
At the end of the concert Izzy said was in need of that cellist... dire need. She thought about going downstairs to catch a glimpse of him as they left, maybe entice him over for quick smash against the wall fuck as the music had got her all horny, and I was considering doing the same for those female violinists and/or the cellist lady... but instead we moved on and went for a coffee (with bromide)...
It so happened that the MPH bookstore in CityLink Mall still had about 4 nanoseconds left to trade, so I ducked under the descending rollers and walked straight into a biography of Beethoven. Definitely need THAT tonight! Something to read while I have my ice-blended mocha.
This has to stop!
I keep buying a new book, or books, before each time I sit down to drink a coffee somewhere or eat lunch or dinner or even go for a crap (my bowels gurgling in the Kinokuniya queue). It's like I feel my time is being wasted if I were to sit without something to read. I should be occupying my mind with something intellectually constructive and educational. Yeah, I know I already have way enough books, I should just keep one on me all the time, right? But I don't. I feel so strongly that I should be working my way through the Western Canon, so I am aware of choosing to go out without a book intentionally so that I HAVE buy a new one... What is wrong with me? This is sick!!
I'm getting on, I don't have that much time left. I'm fifty, fat and hypertensive. I'm gonna die.
I need to read everything, everything GOOD anyway, I need to read everything ever written before that happens. I sense this acceleration of my purchases (and shit it's an expensive vice!) as the years roll on, in some sort of inverse ratio to the time I have left to read them all. If this obsessive compulsion continues at this rate, my flat will be swamped with books (like it's not already) piled to the ceiling, on chairs, on every available flat space. I'll be I won't be able to get in or out of the place due to towers of teetering tomes. They'll eventually find my body crushed under several different editions of Proust, the last two volumes still unread, 999 alerted when the Amazon delivery man couldn't raise an answer to his knocks on the door. They had to call the trackers dogs to sniff me out, and then get the removalists to take out of all the intervening volumes before they could locate my well-read corpse to cart it out...
It's just too sad...
The Beethoven biography is this one...
...except that on my edition, he's facing to the left. WTF?
OTHER MONKEYS SAID
'...but instead we moved on and went for a coffee (with bromide)...'
Very sensible. Those beautiful Russians ladies eat blokes like you for lunch. Blokes like me? What is Dick on about?
I want to marry one. Surely they couldn't be all bad. I am sure the one I find will be honest and trustworthy. Is there somewhere on-line I could get to meet one like that? Maybe exchange a few pleasant emails, have a laugh, check out some of her sexy photos, transfer all my funds to her brother's bank account and then get disappeared somewhere in Uzbekistan?
i read about a dozen of the books i purchased over the summer while my foot was healing...of course, i ordered an equal number (x4) online while sequestered at home. i did like the way you described your impending doom crushed by literature, sugar! but of course this has nothing to do with russian musicians, but i have been celebrating my release from the robocop ranks with a lovely bottle of bubbly ...
Sav: good for you, cheers to the release from ankle-prison. Can we see the A-P view of the ankle as well? The front on one. It is actually better to check for bony alignment of the joint with both x-rays.
sure thing, sugar!
it's there, yet another past naked view of my anatomy...
Sav: looking inside, even looking FROM inside, reverse naked, is what I do for a living... you now that, right?
scary thing is.. i've been buying loads of books too! shit... and it's approximately 3-5 books each trip... about once to twice weekly!
this, too, has got to stop!
contagious! - I know I should have opened that book-shop back in 2003!