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If you want to read something much better on book-buying and the fear of old-age/death/poverty/empty-nest-syndrome:

Afterwards, I thought I'd buy myself an early dinner at Laudisio's. In my pocket I had the last folding money I'm about to see in quite some time. Three to five months, anyway. But first, a book. Gotta have a book if you're gonna have dinner and there's no one along to talk to. So I went to Borders.


Or something much better on the sexual effects of Beethoven:

Music, good, pure, visceral music has that effect beyond anything. More than any drug, any substance. Oh my god, it hurts. It hurts. It’s so fleeting. It’s like this fucking fiction that passes, you experience if for a moment, and it’s gone. If you listen to it too many times, that feeling dies. That’s all of life, it sucks. You cannot be in mid-step, but that is the loveliest, most bittersweet moment. Just before you fall, or just before you catch yourself. All else is shit.


(Or as I put much more succinctly and much less interestingly - she was horny.)



Posted by: expat@large on Oct 28, 07 | 12:10 pm | Profile


But it would have been so romantic! Making love to a Russian cellist who probably can only speak just enough English to get by... ... Oh GOD. All of life is such mundane shit.

Posted by: isabella on Oct 28, 07 | 1:22 pm

I agree, but I'll take one of the tall, slim, blonde ladies!

Posted by: expat@large on Oct 28, 07 | 2:09 pm

p.s everybondy wants to fuck a cellist at some stage in their lives... It's that huge vibrating thing between their thighs, so insanely sexy... but as you say, callouses on their fingers.

Posted by: expat@large on Oct 28, 07 | 2:10 pm

And put shall we say, er.. a touch more gracefully, by Berthold Auerbach: (we all know him well of course!)

“Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.”

and Ludwig van Beethoven:

“I despise a world which does not feel that music is a higher revelation than all wisdom and philosophy”.

Posted by: Sister on Oct 28, 07 | 11:45 pm

Know him? Used to sleep with him! Innocently of course. We shared an upper/lower bunk bed in Legacy camp.

Beethoven, was a grump. He despised many things. The old myth about the downtrodden beaten wife of a drunken husband with multiple miscarriages who should have had an abortion is dispelled in this book by the way. It got bad later on, but at the time Ludwig was born, things were relatively rosy it seems.

Posted by: expat@large on Oct 29, 07 | 12:54 am


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