I no longer care if my infection gets cured or not

January 22, 2017 § Leave a comment

I no longer care if my infection gets cured or not; I just want to be left alone with my classical music, my ferns, and my lamps.

I feel a turning point has been reached this very night, this very moment. I feel an overwhelming desire to go on holiday with —–

January 19, 2017 § Leave a comment

I feel a turning point has been reached this very night, this very moment. I feel an overwhelming desire to go on holiday with —–, lots of holidays. Madeira was my happiest memory in life. This is the state of grace I want to live in. Now I want to fill my time with Alban Berg, Anton Webern, Arnold Schoenberg, with ferns, ferns, ferns all around me, French Windows open to the hot summer blue skies and butterflies and bumblebees chasing each other in and out, until I can get back to white beaches and clear blue seas with —–. “Heady nights of mostly late romantic music”, sultry days in London pubs sheltering from the thunder & lightning, and the torrential summer downpours, as day turns into night in the lashing winds, and buses and Charing Cross Road bookshops glow bright yellow in the Stygian gloom as the afternoon storm rages. Writing my book, and loving —–. Spending Winters heading somewhere hot. Watching her in the underground jacuzzi as Cocteau watches Francine and Doudou painting. “Last night, lying in the studio, I was watching Francine and Doudou painting, and I reflected: ‘How cowardly of you to dare to complain! Here are the two human beings you love most. Nothing happens to be in their minds besides their work and their hope of pleasing you. Francine enjoys herself so seriously, so carefully. Doudou performs wonders without attaching any more importance to them than Francine to what she does.’ Sometimes I get up and go over to my desk, to correct mistakes that occur to me. Sailboats pass out at sea. These are priceless moments. A calm which many scorn because they do not possess it. A piece of good fortune I shall doubtless have to pay for. Consider my crises as a tax on that fortune.”

Image050

Why do I feel so depressed and…scared tonight

January 18, 2017 § Leave a comment

Why do I feel so depressed, and…scared tonight. I think two days of wasteful excess on Thursday and Friday are responsible for this. I feel completely ugly and bloated now. Excess always goes straight to my face so everyone can see it. I feel everyone is against me now, at work, at home, in the street. Just a couple of unkind words are enough to plunge me into misery. It is perhaps merely a feeling of self-loathing which I project onto the faces of everyone around. I have passed a completely sober Saturday quietly at home, with my ferns and my classical music. “A heady night of mostly late romantic music by Berg, Schoenberg and Webern”. I feel the benefit of it now in my clear-headedness, and the easy flow of the ink from my pen, yet I am also crushingly aware of this awful, ugly, fat face. My wastefulness and foolishness are written all over it.

How can you watch Despair and not want to get straight onto a train to the continent?

December 24, 2016 § Leave a comment

How can you watch Despair and not want to get straight onto a train to the continent? Eurostar to Brussels, then straight on to an ICE to Cologne then Berlin? How can you watch Bad Timing and not want to get straight on to the train to Vienna? How can you watch La Dolce Vita or and not want to go straight to Italy? How can you listen to Beethoven, or Schoenberg or Berg or Webern, or Grieg or Sibelius, and not want to just spend your whole life travelling around Europe? Is this a curse, an opium addiction, a sickness? It may destroy your marriages and leave you lonely but I do not know how people cannot spend every single day of their life travelling, if they can possibly afford it.

And yet I need both those sides of my character (or at least I have always up to now convinced myself that I do)

November 15, 2016 § Leave a comment

And yet I need both those sides of my character (or at least I have always up to now convinced myself that I do). I could not live always as a good man, and I would not want to live always as a bad man. I need them both. The oscillating from one to the other is what gives movement to my mechanism and generates the spark that gives me the vital electricity I need to function. It keeps my pendulum swinging. I always need to feel this massive swinging pendulum. Oh there are so many concerts coming up that I would love to see. Alice Sara Ott at the Wigmore Hall on Saturday, Julia Fischer on 5th October, Rosalind Ventris on the 6th October, Alexandra Soumm on the 16th October. We should go to a classical music concert together, Mrs —-’s son texted me a couple of months ago, touchingly. “I like violinists with big tits” I responded, truthfully. Should I be ashamed of that? A nubile violinist on a stage excites me almost as much as a nubile dancer. I get in trouble for saying this, but I am sorry it is true. Men like looking at sexy women, and if they are playing a violin or a piano it is even sexier. I am a scopophiliac. There is nothing wrong with that. Actually I notice on Thursday 20th September the Wigmore Hall has a day long exploration of Music & Dementia, maybe I should book a front row seat for that; or two.

jekyll-6

For me stripping and sex is just part of art; it fits in with paintings, classical music, theatre, opera

November 11, 2016 § Leave a comment

For me stripping and sex is just part of art; it fits in with paintings, classical music, theatre, opera, it is just part of the continuum. A great opera singer on a stage in florid and lurid make up, a great stripper on a stage in florid and lurid make up, a great whore opening the door in florid and lurid make up, great oil paintings, lush strings of an orchestra amidst ferns and fronds. It is all the same. And each one reminds me of the other. A perfect day would combine all of them together.

Another rubbish night at ——–. If I was to stay out drinking this Friday night, where would I go? Absolutely nowhere!

September 4, 2016 § Leave a comment

Another rubbish night at ——–. If I was to stay out drinking this Friday night, where would I go? Absolutely nowhere! There is absolutely nowhere I would want to go tonight. So what is this freedom I am supposedly gasping for? I am happy going home to open French windows, my tropical ferns, and classical music on the gramophone in the shrubbery, a few late butterflies or bumble bies darting in or out, with my kakapo hopping around my feet. Tomorrow I am free from midday to 7pm or later, to go wherever I want. Sunday I devote myself to my wife. Monday night I can have a quick look in the ———, stay a bit longer in the unlikely event there is anything remotely worth staying for. This is the extra bit of freedom I must insist on for myself. I could go to the — or —’s but they would be just as bad as the ——–, so what is the point. Happy to say I have only spent £3.25 this Friday night.

Where Am I?

You are currently browsing entries tagged with classical music at The Struggle to Stay Married.