This Just In: Bite Me!

listening to: stereolab – super falling star

Our connection hates life. I just want to feel CONNECTED, says I.

But of course, the internet finally works and I have nothing to say.

Uuh, things to say…

Remember that one time four years ago that I went to Bands of America, and I thought all the non-orchestra people were loud and annoying and completely ridiculous at all the set concerts? Well, it turns out that nothing has changed. Thank you, BoA staff, for encouraging your campers to be loud and obnoxious FREAKS at all concerts.

I started practicing again this morning. I mean, REALLY practicing. Like slow, double-stops, sixths and thirds, sounds-bad-but-is-good-for-me practicing that I definitely haven’t had the concentration for lately. Because…I could sit around learning all this music while my fingers feel like mush…or I could take time in the morning to establish some sort of stability and really learn things well.

Oh my crap. And there is so much stuff I have left to learn. For a load of different concerts. But hey! I’m playing at something called the Snape Proms!

In other things, BITE ME. Just…rrrrrrrr. Really.

Aaaahahahaha. I’m so very sorry. I’m just not really in a shit-taking mood these last couple of days, know you what I mean. So…pardon me. And stuff.

Holy Crap On Mom’s Shoes!

Yaaaaaay!! I got a scan of my flight ticket! I am officially leaving a week from this Saturday, out of O’Hare at 4:30pm! Woowoo. Direct flight to Brussels. With cello.

Augh. Until then, somebody please entertain me.


Haha. Ha. Insomnia is so much fun. No. Uuuuuhl.

I can’t wait to fly to Belgium and have my biological clock re-set, exhaust myself, and basically force my body into sleeping (this is what happened when we went to Germany last November. I can’t ever remember sleeping better than I did for that week in Germany).

Then again, I just can’t wait to go to Belgium in general. Eleven days! Contrary to popular belief, I’m starting to need to get the hell out of here. Nothing-ness is effecting my brain. RAAAAAAH.

P.S. I don’t know whose belief the above statement was contrary to. Being as…well…yes. Shut up. I’m tired. I’ll cut you.


Dude. Never mess with the Japanese mafia. Or even think about making allegations about rigged sumo wrestling. Seriously.

Several years ago, two former sumo wrestlers came forward with extensive allegations of match rigging–and more. Aside from the crooked matches, they said, sumo was rife with drug use and sexcapades, bribes and tax evasion, and close ties to the yakuza, the Japanese mafia. The two men began to receive threatening phone calls; one of them told friends he was afraid he would be killed by the yakuza. Still, they went forward with plans to hold a press conference at the Foreign Correspondents’ Club in Tokyo. But shortly before-hand, the two men died–hours apart, in the same hospital, of a similar respiratory ailment. The police declared there had been no foul play but did not conduct an investigation. “It seems very strange for these two people to die on the same day at the same hospital,” said Mitsuru Miyake, the editor of a sumo magazine. “But no one has seen them poisoned, so you can’t prove the skepticism.”


This just in: I don’t know how to cite things. Sorry.

But…this just in: I do like blockquotes again. And this book. This freakin’ book.

Oh man. I did not get to sleep until something like 4am. But it was worth it. Dwaaah. “Vermin!!” “Spawn?” “Water in a spoon! On your face!” And I must see this movie. I must I must.

And so I spent most of today napping. And reading Freakonomics. And napping some more. And contemplating a little bit for side. I have a love-hate relationship with contemplation. Mostly because it makes me be super honest with myself and sort out all kinds of situations from way back or current things. And then get mad at things and then walk around yelling crap at myself like “Why am I such a fuck-tard?!” or “which crazy person’s advice is more relevent to me right now: my Dad’s or my teacher’s?!” or sometimes even just “what on EARTH were you thinking, Raul Julia?!” But sometimes you’ve just got to get down with yourself and think. Right? Right. Say no more.

One of my favorite bloggers just got married! Woooo! Weddings are weird. To me. Because I play for so many of them. And it’s my job. And I rarely know anybody involved in the party. Or…never, to my recollection, in fact. And you can probably see how they’ve become more of a meaningless business-related event to me. So to be able to take in blog entries and insane amounts of photos of a wedding of someone I follow, in my voyeuristic blog-reading manner is…well, it’s more than cool. It’s MEANINGFUL. And kind of beautiful. More than kind of.

I need to stop using phrases like “kind of” and “sort of.”

More Of Nothing Is Yet To Come!

listening to: ida – blizzard of ’78

Oh mother of all that is Hungarian, it has just occurred to me how UNBE-FRICKING-LIEVABLY difficult the Kodaly solo suite is. And also how it leaves my strings completely out of tune.

I will stick to Cassado.

Also, I am sunburnt. Ow.

Also, I have so much music to learn. And of course I’m sitting here blogging and not practicing. But you know! I have to make up for the few days in recent history in which I HAVEN’T blogged. Right? Because there will only be more days like those to come.

Who Would Believe What A Poor Set Of Ears Can Tell You?

listening to: ida – golden hours

Holy BUCKETS. A random Eno cover! By some weird NYC indie band of insanity! God. And they even include the weird Fripp-esque guitar solo and John Cale viola bit. I love covers. And this just makes me love them more. Mmmmm, covers.

So…I’m printing out all this YOA music. Since they put all parts online in PDF form. Which is AWESOOME (internet, YES!!). And also somewhat annoying. Because…I’m just sitting here. Printing out around 15 parts. Some of them over 20 pages. And also because something is weird with our printer, in that everything is underlined in RED. And you WONDER if there is something wrong with your BRAIN.

Then there is also the matter of practicing the music. Which is not all too bad, except for the whole seizure-inducing capabilities of the red on the page. Dwah. I look forward to arriving and using original parts. Mmm, original parts.

Yes. I don’t know. Things.

Oh, Me. I Will Shut My Cake Hole.

listening to: interpol – leif erikson

You know, I think too much. Sometimes I just need to tell my brain to shut the god-damn hell up. It’s good to realize this. Decisive nod goes here.

Helllooo, I am in Urbana. It was a last-minute decision, which involved coffee with Diana (or rather, a chai-chocolate milk shake. Sweet Mother of all things Chocolate, was that good), delivering a bassoon-part for my Dad, and cleaning out the rest of my apartment and grabbing absolutely everything I might need for Europe. And taking advantage of the music library some more. Hmm. I will be back tomorrow before the evening. I did not even bring my cello. “Cello? Meh.”

You know, I am excited to go to Europe. So excited. Really, I am. But the lazy and extremely indulgent part of me just wants to sit around and continue my summer in the manner it has been going. Uh…yes.

I should shut my cake-hole and go to bed. What with the whole hardly sleeping last night thing. Oh, me.


listening to: portishead – it could be sweet

Oh, Beth Gibbons, you are HOT. HAWT. It’s only taken me seven years, but I really really like Portishead.

THIS JUST IN: Everything is hilarious to me. It’s all the internet’s fault. Seriously. I think I actually spent most of yesterday withholding tears of laughter.

Exhibit A: Ze Frank’s The Show. Specifically this show. Which I watched about a dozen times in a row and for some reason still thought it hilarious. Why? I think it has something to do with the song. And the “pretend to speak French.” And the “Yeah–no,” thing. And Ze in general.

Exhibit B: I will turn this internet around and everyone will go to bed without porn! OH GOD. Movies in Fifteen Minutes. I haven’t even obtained the book and I find these Episode III icons painfully hilarious.

Exhibit C: Rocketbo(tt)om. All the time. Really.

Man. I’m sorry I have to blog things. When I’m tired and way too easily amused by life.

THIS JUST IN: We here in my family are becoming peddlers. I’m hardly joking.

Are you in need of a cello? Particularly, a capable cello? A cello that is easy to play and sounds absolutely fabulous on the upper strings? Moreover, do you want to pay a reasonable amount for said cello? If so, contact me. I am selling.

Hell. For that matter, are you in need of a Cison violin, or a practically new shiny, black, 10lb Bam cello case? We’re selling those, too.

Yeah. My new case arrived yesterday. With my OLD CELLO inside it. That’s right. I think I mentioned before that Robertson never found a buyer, and so they sent it back to us. I’ve been playing it in the practice-room a bit, because I’m curious. And it still sounds fabulous. Seriously. That A String. HOO! I mean, it still doesn’t like to articulate on the lower strings. But wow. The fact that we’re selling it for $5,000 is kind of mind-boggling to me. Apparently it can’t be worth any more because the varnish is crap. Who knew!

The new case is amazing, too. 13 lbs, carbon fiber, wheels, protective soft cover on top. Amazing. I would be sad about having to sell the old one, if the new one weren’t so damn amazingly attractively STURDY. The soft cover kind of makes it look a little more like I’m carrying around a small dead person than I would like. Going through airports is going to be so much __FUN__.

Other than that, asd;flkj!@!!

Signing off for now.

Minna Damatte Oide Tsuite Koi, COME ON!

listening to: nimura kenji – the moon and the prince (DAMN this song)

You know, in the past two days I have given this some very serious thought, and my final statement on the particular matter is that RHYTHMIC INTEGRITY IS IMPORTANT VITAL. If you do not play with rhythmic integrity, I will not like your playing, and if you think excessive schmalziness will compensate, then I MAY have to kill you. I did in fact come to a decision during Innsbrook that I would forfiet fancy frou-frou-y excessive musical CRAP for rhythmic integrity, any day.

Last night I saw A Prarie Home Companion. Because I could. And I love Prarie Home Companion. And I was MADLY curious. All I’ve really got to say is…GARRISON KEILLOR, YOUR VOICE DOES NOT FIT YOUR BODY AT ALL EVER.

Actually, I highly enjoyed it. The guest-star people all really worked WELL. Meryl Streep, Lilly Tomlin, the awesomeness. Woody Harrelson still dressed like a hobo! It was great! Except for Lindsay Lohan, who RUINS EVERYTHING. This was a weirdly emo Lohan, though. And for little purpose, it seems. Peculiar.

Have I mentioned my love-hate relationship with Linsday Lohan, here? It’s something I keep to myself. But I just can’t help it! I love to hate her. So much. I’m pretty sure it’s all because of the people at Go Fug Yourself.

Now that I think about it, Go Fug Yourself might also have something to do with the fact that I yelled “Use a freakin’ hot oil treatment!” at the TV screen to Laura Dern in Jurassic Park 3, at Rob/Matt/Allison’s house the other night. Jurassic Park 3 is frustratingly bad, by the way. Avoid if at all possible.

The internet is doing great things for me.

Every New Line Starts With "I"

listening to: mogwai – sine wave

I had the weirdest dream ever, last night. It involved an Innsbrook/YOA bootcamp.

I think this dream might have something to do with the fact that I got word yesterday that we need to reaudition for seating once we get to Brussels. CRAAP.

I mean, that’s not wholly bad. It’s all the same music as before. I just need to relearn Rococo. Whatever.

I just wonder if this whole thing is going to turn into CYSO’s Green Lake camp. In Brussels, Belgium. HAHA. That’s likely. But damn.

I almost forgot about a gig today. That would be been baaad.


listening to: hooverphonic – nr 9

I am bored. I played a trashy wedding today. Money is good, though.

I am listless. And impatient. And confused. I wish people would say what they meant.

That’s all I’m thinking right now, really.


Holy Freaking Crap!

Apparently nobody in Albuquerque has wanted to buy my old cello (which we sent to Robertson to sell themselves after getting my new cello from them last July), so in the new cello case I’m getting, they’re sending it BACK (so we can sell it ourselves)!

And I was all “boohoo, now I’ll never see my old nostalgic cello ever again.” Except for the part where I wasn’t like that at all, and was basically too enraptured by the new cello to give a rat’s ass.

Okay, not completely true.

But you know, I will be very interested to play it again. Very very interested. Veeery.


listening to: mogwai – R U still in 2 it

Kerry: I completely forgot that Keith Richards fell out of a tree. I still don’t remember saying that, but whatever. DAMN, I’M HILARIOUS.

And this is just damn cool. I love Rube Goldberg contraptions. Much the way I love Rocketboom! Raaaraaah!

My neck hurts. SO MUCH. I hate beds and not sleeping well in them. EYAAAAAH! Ow.

That is all I have to report.

A Supposedly Fun Book That Hurts My Brain

listening to: hooverphonic – battersea

Woowoo! Jury duty!

Jury duty thus far has been relatively painless. I went in for about three hours on monday, and only about 2.5 this morning. Neither time was I picked to serve, and was able to leave. This morning there was approximately a 1.5 hour wait with nothing to do but read before being called into any courtroom. Which I guess was nice. But frankly, I think I need to choose some slightly different reading materiel for 8:30am.

So, I didn’t really read at all during Innsbrook, which completely knocks out my set pattern of reading 3 books per week during music camps (like I did at Aria and Madeline Island). So I’m still all into this David Foster Wallace book, A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again. And…


There’s this 60-page essay about TV and its effect on fiction writers (seen as TV voyeurs) and relation to malignant addiction, reference to TV as its own entity, postmodernism, realism and…and…

I should not be reading that crap at 8:30am. Kind of like how we should not have been reading and talking about What Is Music In The 20th Century? at 9am, ever, in history, seriously.

And…I don’t know. There are frequently statements not entirely unlike this:

If Realism called it like it saw it, Metafiction simply called it as it saw itself seeing itself see it.

You get my schtick?

But the entire thing is horribly fascinating, if somewhat brain-slushifying. Like, if you think about it, TV is just radio enhanced with the added visual element. And it’s amazing to think about how easy it is to be ironic. All you need to do to be ironic with television is to make the visual misaligned from the auditory in a sense. And when I think about it irony that way, it’s amazingly simple to me. I like trying to analyze MST3k in terms of both this and realism, because it’s just so…so…yes. I don’t know if anything I’m inserting here actually makes sense. I need to read the essay about 8-billion times more during hours that are not morning hours in order to properly get this stuff into my brain.

Haha, I actually started reading the essay before I went to Innsbrook, and when my hostess (who was basically a little old lady transplanted from the conservative early 60’s) asked me what I was reading, I told her about the book, and what I had read in the essay so far. I think I explained that the essay was explaining how fiction-writers have a new “in” with tv, in a way that changes a lot of how they write and makes them into weird, lonely, intelligent voyeurs. And she went “Oh, that’s bad!” And I went “I honestly have no idea.” And then I shut up, because I realized that she probably thought I was kind of weird.

There is also a consideration of the fact that the book was written in the early nineties, before the Low Art days of reality TV and __THE INTARWEB__. But that basically just reminds me of other weird socioeconomical books I need to read (Everything Bad Is Good For You and Freakonomics).

Aside from that, the book has some really awesome stories about Central Illinois, and growing up around here that are just…fun to read. And connecting. Especially if you have lived here since you were pre-crawling age, and still live here, as I do.

And now I will go off to practice thirds and sixths. THIRDS AND SIXTHS. I know I sound crazy, but they are fun and make my fingers happy. THIRDS! SIXTHS!

Damn, I’m Useless Right Now

listening to: voltaire – anastasia

Do you know what’s even more disconcerting than random push-button publishing things updating by themselves? When people quote me saying something in their AIM profiles and I DON’T REMEMBER SAYING IT.

Rebecca’s AIM profile:

Talia: ‘ello. I’m Keith Richards…
Talia: *thunk*

Two possibilities here. One, there’s a Talia imposter. Two, I was just saying random stuff and not paying attention. Or I don’t know. Maybe there really are two of me. We’ve covered this before. If that’s the case, I must kill the other me.

Blah, jury duty early.


listening to: r.e.m. – parakeet

It’s random amusing quote-fest! All the time! I meant to post these before leaving for Innsbrook, but then I left, and I came back with more random amusing quotes! So here.

Random amusing quotes: “The girl with the black girl!” — Rachel

“Apparently I’m going to a poster this summer” — Rachel

“Some people liked my recital. And some poeple were tone-deaf.” — Rachel

“What, did she have sex with a cell-phone?”
“‘People just kept calling me! I didn’t know what else to do!'” — Rachel, Talia

“Why are you guys so mean to me?!”
“Because you keep calling it Pony Club!” — Talia, Brad

“It’s really amazing that you’re playing Bartok like this in the middle of fucken’ Missouri.” — Concertmaster of the St. Louis Symphony

“I really like her dress. … That doesn’t mean I’m gay!” — Veeshal

“Hey Veeshal! We’re supposed to tell you we thought you were gay when we first met you.” — numerous people

“Pass the god-damn butter!” — Richard Aaron’s method of counting 3 against 4

Talia: …and it’s all because he had to study with Orlando Bloom…
Talia: What? OH SHIT! I meant Orlando Cole. Please don’t tell anyone this just happened.
Kyra: It’s okay. There’s only room for one Orlando in my heart, too.

Wooo, boy.

You Will Never Get To Take Me With Disposible Parts

listening to: enon – disposible parts


I love my friends.

For the record, Kerry’s AIM profile entertains me so much I could jab my own eye out.

Today I had my lesson. And I told Brandon about how awesome working with the teacher at Innsbrook was. And how weird everything else was. And then Brandon admitted it to me, openly. “I only sent you there to work with Richard Aaron, honestly.” I laughed and went “I know! Hahahaha! It’s funny.”

Although honestly, there was some weird part of my lesson that made me feel like my very SOUL was being measured in terms of grad-school.

You know, I kind of miss Veeshal. We complained together so much last week. It was a bonding experience, really.

Random sidenote: I have entered a writing-binge state of being. As well as a thirds and sixths state of being. Those feel so good. And a practicing slowly phase. Yes, yes. Life is good.


listening to: corey dargel – sorry

R.I.P., Gy├Ârgy Ligeti, my favorite Jewish-Hungarian composer.

In other things relating to death, I went on the most painful and hellish run, EVER, this morning. I thought I might die. I’m pleased to say it was hellish because I actually worked harder, and not just because I haven’t run in a week. Hee.

I keep having Innsbrook dreams.

I need to go shower and play a few more scales. Woo.

Kekeke Pt I

listening to: yann tiersen – rue des cascades

I find it highly disconcerting that my other blogger blogs (template testing, mix-making blogs) randomly update themselves on their own. Why? From where? Was it something I did?

Also, I’m talking to Adrian, and we both somehow seem to have our lessons tomorrow at 4. Interesting. I’ll have to call Brandon to figure that one out. I just feel bad, because between me trying to schedule around jury duty and Layla (Brandon’s kid) hanging up the phone while he’s holding her, I have called Brandon like FIF-TEEN times in the last 36 hours.


Adrian: do you remember when he called her [Layla] a “complication” ?

I do. That was funny. I laughed at him. Oh, Brandon.

Oh! Oh! And, I don’t have to report for jury duty tomorrow. Thus my having a lesson.

Anyway, stuff. I’m feeling less (originally typed “lesson”) idiotic now. Sometimes I just go through waves of not understanding why I’m so introverted. And then I get all “i loathe myself, blah.” But you knew that, already.

Sleep, I say.

Actually Self-Loathing

listening to: stereolab – nomus et phusis

Jury Duty is EXCITING! Except for the part where it really isn’t. But I saw about six other people I know from various places, and actually made friends with another awesome U of I student who is secretly offering to get me discounted books. But you didn’t hear that from me *shifty eyes*

Ugh. I was thinking earlier today. For the last few years, I’ve been telling myself I’m really okay with the person I’ve become. That I am in fact happy about the person I’ve become, and excited that for the most part, I live in relative peace with um…the world.

But this morning I realized that I still have massive issues with other people, and how I think they see me. I realized that all I ever do is assume that everyone else thinks the worst of me, and that they loathe both my mentality and my physical being. If I were really okay with myself, I wouldn’t be having these problems.

I turns out I might really be a self-loathing individual. And I don’t exactly know what to do about it. I’ve always been this way, whether I’ve known it or not.

Blah Blah Blah

listening to: dismemberment plan – standing still


I wish I could have put off being frustrated with life for at least one day after getting back from the institute. ONE EFFING DAY. Because in all honesty, I came back feeling fairly awesome about a lot of things. But here I am now. Crazy-like.

God. Last night was just so weird.

But…anyway. Yesterday two more people told me I look like Jacqueline Du Pre when I play the cello. And I was like “…it’s just the hair.” Because…come on. It’s really just the hair. But they told me that, no! It’s the way I move! But…well…the hair.

Actually, have I mentioned how I hate the way I move when I play? I hate it. One of the artists at Innsbrook, Andres Diaz, is is amazing to watch. He almost looks like he’s suspended from something. And his left-hand is this smooth but efficient machine. I think I could watch and marvel at him for hours.

But me? I move too much. And I STILL lean forward and get myself all tense. And it only detracts from basically everything going on.

Another sort of compliment I recieved about the way I move was after one of my lessons a couple weeks ago, at Brandon’s house. Brandon’s nephew and the nephew’s mother came in, and Brandon and Simin were introducing me to them, telling them I was sitting principal for the Brahms Double concert in May. And the mother goes “oooh yes! we saw you there! I can tell you’re Brandon’s student because of the way you move!”


Because…dammit! I am pretty sure every quartet of students in the school of music occasionally makes fun of the Pacifica for the way they move. Not because it’s bad!! It’s not!! But because it’s striking. And I knew I had mastered doing the Brandon…thing. But I didn’t realize that it was because I do it, too.

But that’s not bad. I play the way I play, and I don’t think I should change it. Just adjust it to a healthier and looser means of movement.

Sigh. Waiting to call the jury people. And then maybe going in for a lesson if there is no jury duty. I possibly should have gone right back to Champaign yesterday, so I could have had a lesson this morning and rushed back if I needed to be called in at one.

Dammit. Damn me.


listening to: stereolab – infinity girl


Wow, gurrlz. Innsbrook was really freaking weird. I am completely divided between loving a lot of what I experienced and being equally frustrated with it.

Regardless, I learned one HELL of a lot. Not just technical cello/music things, but a ton from watching people and observing situations and weird stuff, along with a good side-dish of overcontemplation. Yay, overcontemplation. Also, you know how my general philosophy with school and music has always been “working my hardest and seeing where it takes me?” That now seems to be coming more into focus on something specific. I will detail later.

More blabbering entries relating to the past week (also known as the LONGEST NINE DAYS OF MY LIFE) tomorrow. Or maybe tonight. I don’t know.

In other things, I must mention that I’m buying ANOTHER CELLO CASE. WHAT THE FUCK. Agh. Traveling. If it weren’t so cool, it would totally suck.

Jury duty, though, actually does suck. I still don’t know what’s up. I’m not reporting in at 8:30 tomorrow, but I’m supposed to call in at 11 to see if I need to report at 1pm? Whatever.

I’m going to go practice.

Somebody Cries!!

listening to: stuart davis – someone else’s ears

Wow. I had the best Stu-related moment this morning.

I was in Espresso Royal, getting some tea, because I didn’t really sleep all that much last night and was in need of caffeination. Kyra came in with me. As I was grabbing my tea at the counter, Kyra said that we needed to figure out some sort of fun game to play during the four hour drive to Innsbrook. And the guy behind the counter (who I thought I recognized but wasn’t sure) started saying that he knew a game we could play! It’s this game called “Somebody Cries,” and he started explaining how you have the person you’re with start telling you about private things and then you take all these tidbits and use them against them to make the person cry.

And I’m standing there feeling kind of “What the fuck. Is this deja vu or what? WHAT’S GOING ON?!” Because…isn’t that something from a Stuart Davis album??

And then I realize what’s going on, and I point to the guy, and I say “YOU LIKE STUART DAVIS!” And he goes “YEAH!” And it turns out this is a guy who I’m facebook friends with who found me because I might be like…one of two other people who had Stuart Davis listed under favorite music. I swear that he is the ONLY OTHER PERSON ON THIS FREAKING CAMPUS who knows and loves Stu. I had just never met him.

And so I think we’re gonna play Somebody Cries on the way over. And then maybe we’ll play Somebody Heals on the way back.

Anyway. I’m off to Missoura for the week. I am determined to approach this whole thing from a learning experience point of view and attempt to reach technical cello enlightenment. And shit. And continue to not be uptight and maybe also play this thing by Arthur Foote and read and listen to things.

Who knows if there will be internet! Or phone service! Woohoo!