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August 10, 2005

Volume 5, Issue 10

The theme for the day is a musical instrument. You must include a musical instrument in your story in some way.

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Comments

I always wanted to play the Flute,

or even the Banjo, Guitar or Lute.

I could sit at the keyboard and finger the keys,

Or play a zither placed on my knees,

I imagined they'd clap when I sat down to play ,

What ever instrument I chose that day,

I would spend all my time to learn some new songs,

and practice all night , to right any wrongs.

I always wanted to be on stage,

Be a big star , be the big rage

I wouldn't mind learning the notes and the clef

My biggest problem is that I'm tone deaf.

Posted by: drackip at August 10, 2005 5:00 AM · Permalink

Bravo. Well done!

Posted by: michele at August 10, 2005 6:27 AM · Permalink

Her hands were sweaty, though she kept wiping them on her skirt. She took deep breaths, willing herself to relax. Eyes closed, she heard the commotion around her-people settling into their seats, tuning their instruments, shuffling sheets of music.

She opened her eyes. The lights dimmed. The curtains opened to polite applause. A spotlight shone on the conductor as he strode to the podium. He turned to face the orchestra, looked over at her and nodded. She entered the stage from the wings and walked to center stage. The lights were blinding.

She lifted her kazoo to her mouth.

Posted by: Julie at August 10, 2005 8:57 AM · Permalink

The $10,000 prize at the annual town festival attracts many enthusaistic musicians, and we at the hospital see the least talented among them, needing their chosen instrument removed from their arse, it having been put there by some music critic.

We have our own contest, for the most impressive instrument removed from a bunghole. Flutes, recorders, and kazoos aren't even in the running, although one year a Harmonica won, but only because it was in sideways. Last year Dr. Freid took the prize with a mandolin, but this year I've got it wrapped up.

See, I just extracted a bagpipe.

Posted by: Jeff R. at August 10, 2005 9:43 AM · Permalink

I spent months preparing the Chorale movement from Vierne's Second Symphony for pipe organ. I finally played it right. I was "open" to the music, and observed in a detached, almost Zen-like way, how my body performed the motions without conscious direction. The sound was intimate and immediate. It was the synthesis of being both observer and participant in the perfect performance that sticks with me. I have only felt the direct touch of something Divine a very few times in my life -- and that brief period of musical communion with something very, very powerful counts as one of them.

Posted by: JohnL at August 10, 2005 11:31 AM · Permalink

My people, they are a stiff-necked people.

Been that way for thousands of years. Back in the Sinai days, Moses had it all figured out. You think he climbed up Mount Nebo to die, giving up on his dream to enter the Promised Land just because God told him to?

Think again.

He simply couldn’t stand any more of the constant bitching, whining, and nagging.

“It was better back in Egypt.” “This manna sucks! I want meat!” “I’m thirsty!” “We’re all gonna die!

So Moses said, “Fuck off!”

Can’t say I blame him. Other people may complain, but Jews harp.

Posted by: Elisson at August 10, 2005 11:41 AM · Permalink

"Needs more mass," said Penelope.

"Maybe we should just shut it down," I said, ducking as debris went flying overhead.

"Nonsense!" said Penelope. "I am Penelope Coop, the world's first and smartest theoretical physicist-slash-instrumentalist, and God help me, I will not rest until this quantum black hole plays a perfect B-flat! More mass, Rupert!"

Of course I complied. What else could I do? "This is not safe!" I cried, launching small planetoids into the vortex.

Just then, as if on cue, the hole (rather, the gasses around the hole) emitted a deafening belch.

"Success!" said Penelope. "Rupert, fetch the case."

Posted by: G-Do at August 10, 2005 7:38 PM · Permalink