Moved.
(Plus it's easier to talk about music than anything else. Ben taught me that.)
Something about playing piano before eight in the morning is beautiful. I think I've sat down with my coffee cup at hand every day for the past ten days and tried to bang out something or other. This morning was Merry Go Round of Life from Howl's Moving Castle. A gorgeous, upbeat piece, almost reminiscent of Vivaldi without the freneticism. Like Brahms without the jumpscares. More sophisticated somehow and less jarring. Always and forever flows better, and yet has a simple optimism that keeps you engaged right through to the end.
It's like going to a museum Hemingway-style. Hungry.
Half-awake Bridget appreciates things without perspicacity very early, before the day throws itself on me, making me bitter, picky.
It almost cured my headache so now I've moved on to some Debussy with a little of the quieter Dvorak sprinkled throughout.
Okay, now Dvorak takes the fuck over.
A second cup of coffee, the first long forgotten and ice-cold poured out and replaced with a fresh hot cup and some toast would do me well right now even as the pain in my head is almost drowned out by the trumpets I can hear only on the inside as I play along. Dvorak is king. This is beautiful. The resonating strings-
Fuck this. Going to get my violin so I can do that beautiful climb. Maybe I just need a classical soundtrack to give me momentum because holy shit this works.
(You know you loved it when you grieve at the end, because it's finished.)