Escher drawing music.

The other day my friend and I stopped by our dear friend Andrew's apartment, nestled in an obscure neighborhood on the Upper West Side. Andrew and my friend both studied with the same cello teacher in college, but now that Andrew's graduated, he's had more time to focus on making music with a string quartet he and some friends formed while at school. I've heard them in performance playing Richard Danielpour's fifth string quartet and was very impressed; however that was two years ago, before they were picked up by a prestigious management company and given a spot at Lincoln Center's Chamber Music Society.

With a bit of coaxing (but not too much), Andrew let Alice and me view a performance of the Mendelssohn Quartet in A minor that they had done in Aspen, CO a year ago. Like their mentors, the Emerson String Quartet, these young musicians stand when they perform. I forgot to ask Andrew how it felt for him to be the only seated musician, but he seemed supportive of the idea generally.

Immediately upon hearing them one forgot whether they were sitting, standing, or running up and down the goddamn stage wearing headdresses. Their sound is gorgeous. I've known all four musicians from school; they're all nice people and they were all certainly the cream of the crop at their chosen instruments. They've done something that few graduates get the chance to do, however, and that's grow into true musicians by doing something they love.

They are easily one of the top young string quartets out there and I have no doubt that they'll make a strong mark in string quartet performance history. Adam (first violin) and Wu Jie (second violin), have shared some of the same violin teachers; this has perhaps assisted in their uncanny ability to balance each other and act as simply two violinists, without any hierarchy. It also doesn't hurt that they both have beautiful, lush tones and the technical mastery of their instruments to do whatever they damn well pleased. Pierre (viola) is a very nice guy, extremely intellectual, and an impressive violist. Sitting next to him in orchestras, even if it's a particularly lack-luster orchestra, is always a pleasure. He not only makes the viola part audible, but his musical ideas, sound, and phrasing are all to be lauded. Andrew (cello) is a licensed massage therapist in the state of California, and that's just what he does to the cello: with a lustful vibrato and graceful swoops, he almost massages the music out of his own cello.

If you want to see the future of classical music, look no further than the Escher String Quartet. I personally am not only impressed by their work but proud that my colleagues have already achieved this level of musicianship. You can visit them on their official website or just even just Google them. These next concert seasons are sure to be busy for them, so look for some of their upcoming performances in the NYC and metropolitan areas.

My little book review of 'Narcissus and Goldmund'

Hesse's Narcissus and Goldmund explores the journey into manhood of the puerile, artistic Goldmund and how it not only affects, but enlightens his dear friend Narcissus. Between Narcissus and Goldmund Hesse explores the differences between the logical and the sensual, the intellectual and the artistic. The book is heavily focused on Goldmund, who is sent by his domineering and uncompassionate father to a cloister, Mariabronn, in order to receive schooling and eventually enter the monk brotherhood. Immediately the cloister's prodigy, an analytical and intense young scholar named Narcissus, recognizes the great potential this Goldmund possesses.

Two life-changing experiences occur during Goldmund's student career at Mariabronn; one experience took place the night he snuck out with some schoolmates to meet some peasant girls and he received his first kiss from a dark gypsy girl named Lise, and the other experience was an intense discussion with Narcissus that Goldmund lacked a mother figure in his life. Compelled to find his mother, who had run away when he was a young boy, Goldmund escaped from the cloister and journeyed for roughly ten years through the countryside and cities of Germany. Living as a vagrant he led a rich and varied life, encountering many interesting characters, predicaments, and lovers during his journey. He finally discovers himself and he recognizes his calling to become an artist; the whole time he keeps the images of his mother and Narcissus in mind, making his decisions ultimately based on them. When Narcissus and Goldmund unexpectedly reunite, Goldmund's transformation into not only an adult but an artist has impacted Narcissus greatly.

As a female musician I found this an interesting and necessary book to read in order to further my understanding of males and what it means for them to become artists. As simply a female I was slightly annoyed by the amount of womanizing Goldmund did throughout his journey; however he did not describe women in derogatory terms, but lauded their physical beauty and individual graces. It is difficult to relate to a person who wants to roam freely to find new experiences, since I personally find that there are many rich experiences in life when you find your vocation and your mate. I suppose that is the feminine "settler" in me, but anyway, at least Goldmund didn't mean any harm by his encounters with beautiful women. He in fact honored all of these women and their individuality, even loved some of them, but the ideal woman in his life was really his figureless, ideal mother. It's a beautiful concept in a novel, but if that happened in real life, I'd be pretty pissed off and creeped out.

Goldmund had to experience a lot of "sin", as he considered it, in order to develop into a mature and worldly human being. His loss of faith in God was replaced with a deeper faith in humanity, in the tangible, in the arts. In that way he actually brought himself closer to a higher being and purpose, something that many of his former brothers in the cloister tried in vain to accomplish but could not achieve. Narcissus had achieved this same goal, although his means varied greatly from that of Goldmund's; through prayer and piety, Narcissus achieved the same level of awareness at the world.

Molinaro's translation of this book is very smooth and captivating. The translation was completed and published in 1968, at the peak of post-modernism; while still capturing the essence of Hesse's speech it is clearly an American rendering of the text. Powerful adjectives spot themselves within compact sentences, drawing the reader in and bringing him/her along with every emotional high and low felt by the characters. I have read poor translations of other Hesse books before, which seemed like the editor simply copied and pasted Hesse's work into altavista.com's Babel Fish translating tool. While such editions as Dover are extremely inexpensive renderings of works by Hesse, it is well worth the $14 to invest in this translation.

Last published by Picador in 1957, translation copyrighted 1968 by Farrar, Straus and Giroux, New York.

Morning news.

Interesting articles of the day.

Adam and Eve in the Land of the Dinosaurs -- NY Times
These people are idiots and they need to leave science to scientists.

Immigration Bill Provisions Gain Wide Support in Poll -- NY Times
How fair of American citizens to have a poll deciding who should come into the country. Just like the Native Americans had with the pilgrims. Well, at least people are more supportive of immigrant rights than I first believed.

Facebook Expands into MySpace's Territory -- NY Times
I have both, but I prefer Facebook much more by far.

Female Shark Reproduced Without Male DNA, Scientists Say -- NY Times
My fellow feminists, our day has come.

Young String Quartets, Learning From the Masters -- NY Times
Yes!!!!!!!!!!!

Bill Evans Plus Flamenco Equals Something Else Again -- NY Times
This is going on through Sunday 5/27. I'm going to try to check it out.

Babies Can Tell Between Languages -- India Times
Very fascinating.

Fingers 'a clue to exam success' -- BBC
OK, despite the fact that there is scientific research involved, I don't completely agree with this article. That or I'm a freak of nature and the length of my fingers along with my academic strenghts and weaknesses are exceptional to their study.

Heavy-drinking college kids make worse decisions --Reuters
No FUCKING way!


Sorting through a number of online periodicals has confirmed my devotion to the New York Times, the New Yorker, and New York magazine.

This post is for JDaug.

Let us all take a moment to recognize of the greatest living actors in film and television today.


Vincent D'Onofrio...*siiiiiiiiiiiigh*. I'm not one for girly fan crushes, but everytime I see the Law & Order trailers outside of my school building I always wait around, hoping to catch a glimpse of him performing a scene or something.

Even if you're not a Law & Order Criminal Intent fan (I, too, have a hard time getting into shows like those), watch just for D'Onofrio. He is so GOD DAMNED TALENTED. Rumor has it that he's living in Manhattan; hopefully I can find out where a few of his favorite restaurants or coffee shops are. That doesn't mean I intend on stalking him, I just want to heighten my chances of running into him "accidentally".

Let's oogle at some more pictures, shall we?

This was taken March 2007. WHO THE HELL IS SHE?!


Of course these pictures are not legally mine and are probably copyrighted. Does this mean I'll get in trouble for posting them on this weblog? I suppose that will only happen if I take credit for these photographs, or if I'm using them for profit. And of course we know that's not the case---unless somebody wants to pay me for posting this. I wouldn't mind the lawsuit.

UPDATE: That woman above with Vincent is his wife. I thought he was divorced; apparently they were married, separated, and then reconciled. That's sweet, actually. I'm glad everything worked out for them. :)

(I'm still intent on "accidentally" running into him in Manhattan, though.)

I'm not bitter, I'm just broke.

I've gotten a few requests by some people on Facebook to write more in this blog, so I believe I will. Thanks for the feedback, it was very nice.

Most people who write in blogs aren't very interesting people, myself included. What compels us webloggers to "blog", as they say, is a combination of two things:
1.) the tendency to be annoyed by the most trivial things and
2.) having the insatiable desire to rant about whatever is on the mind.
I was extremely annoyed by a snotty rich girl today, so therein I have found my topic. Oh my, where do I begin?

The entitlement that the children of the rich, particularly females, feel they're owed is ridiculous and would be laughable, if only their parents weren't so intent on perpetuating their delusions of grandeur. I was raised in an affluent suburb of New York City, where in high school the average student's car cost at least twice as much as that of the average teacher. These students were athletic, academic, polite, ambitious; their parents were mostly lawyers and stock brokers who liked to retreat to "the country" every evening after a busy day at work a little less than an hour away in Manhattan. These students also had a tendency to model themselves after pictures in the Abercrombie & Fitch or J.Crew catalogues. Nonetheless, they were hard workers like their parents, and many of them have gone off to great colleges not because of their money or whatever legacy, but because they worked extremely hard at what they did. I know, because I've seen their science projects go to state and national levels, I've sat next to them in AP classes, I've seen them perform in music, theater, dance, whatever. And I've seen their SAT scores, which were always phenomenal. Truly the future leaders of America type of deal.

Drive thirty-five miles south and the scenery changes drastically, and not just from the towering skyscrapers. In Manhattan the rich truly do live side by side with the poor; the difference of one block, even sometimes half a block, could mean an income of millions of dollars to welfare checks. I suppose for some upperclass folks in NYC this gives them some sort of validation, a confirmation that they've made it to the top and they've got it under control, unlike these unemployed scoundrels who would rather live off their God damned hard-earned tax money than get a job. Right on, asshole.

Private schools are abundant in Manhattan for a few reasons. Well-funded public schools are hard to come by, and magnet schools have a limited capacity. While private schools can provide scholarship to exceptionally promising young people, the majority of the school is funded by the wealthy parents of students. For only $25,000 a year these parents will gladly send their precious offspring to this school to ensure that their baby's college application reads the name of their private school boldly and clearly. And why are the odds of getting into a good college after private schooling like this so high? Well if the parents are capable of paying for this private
school, they'd probably be more than willing to spend twice that amount to send their little Johnny or Sally to Columbia University, just a stone's throw away.

It is no coincidence that America's most expensive colleges are comprised of graduates of the most expensive private high schools. I can't say I have anything in particular against that; I mean, it makes sense. What I DO hate is that by attending these overpriced liberal arts and high schools, and being reminded everyday that their parents are paid the big bucks to be successful in their field of choice, that their children are deluded into thinking that they're any better than other people simply for these reasons.

I've met guys from Manhattan whose parents are filthy rich, and some are assholes, but I haven't met anyone who was too difficult to stomach. GIRLS, however, are different. Perhaps it's because I'm a girl and there is often a sense of competition---"vagina envy", as I like to call it---between two hot-blooded young females. Rich bitches from Manhattan have it the worst. If you don't immediately begin kissing her ass, or she feels threatened by you in some way, she'll make sure you know it by acting like she's better than you, which is really the only skill she has. You're thinner than she is? Fine, well, she always liked fat thighs! You're prettier than she is? Well to her you're not, because nobody is prettier than her, no matter how much she resembles a farm animal. God forbid she finds out she can do something that you can't, or else from then on all you'll hear is, "What, you don't know French? Well I spoke it all the time with my nanny when I was a young girl..." In their minds these girls do everything right. They're highly critical of others, and the irony of it all would amuse me, if it weren't such an upsetting reality.

The parents of girls like these can have a variety of personalities, from being just as idiotic to humble people. The one thing their parents all have in common is that they have high-paying, sometimes high-profile careers; they live comfortably. In contrast their daughters most likely won't amount to anything; but as good parents do, they enrich their daughters with whatever they can in hopes that their offspring will become worldly, capable young women. Frequent trips to high-society dinners, lavish vacations, performances at the opera, anything to stimulate their
daughters' coked-out minds. How did they get so coked out, you ask? You can thank daddy for that credit card he gave his precious when she went off to college.

I just can't wait until the rug is pulled out from under them and, in their drunken and coked-out stupor, they look around and realize their lives haven't amounted to much. It's so sad that in the media the only girls we read about are heiresses whose fathers are oil tycoons or CEOs of major corporations, whose lives are so fabulous because all they do is shop and party. Sure that'd be fun
for oh, A DAY; but they have the resources, so why don't they make their lives amount to more than just spending the allowances their parents give them?

Amaretto Di Amore.

Italian coffee leaves a wonderful buzz. All you need is a cup of coffee, a spoonful of sugar, a shot of amaretto, and some whipped cream if you prefer. I prefer mine without. Combined with a laptop, a musical instrument nearby, good lighting and a big comfy chair, it has the potential to delude you into at least one hour of peace of mind.

My God, I just listened to Szeryng playing the Bach Chaconne. I really have no words for it. In fact I'm going to have to end this entry now; Bach has said it all for me. I encourage whoever is reading this to listen to Szeryng play the Bach Chaconne. It's available on YouTube.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZ0K00aEqhE (Part I)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=COhIuDTDyzg (Part II)