Saturday, September 3, 2011

Chopin, no

I am listening to Chopin... A withheld beginning, coy, As if he is touching the face of a marble virgin, tracing her lips and cheeks and brow... So subtle his climaxes are like keeping quiet out of respect to other guests in a hotel, And he is so moved by it, watch is eyebrows crease, so lovely this boy, he may as well be called a demi-god the difference is neligable, oh chopin... Your trills are gentle and thoughtful, holding back outpourings of fire, we are opposites he is not on fire he is smouldering... Oh darling... I still smell of his zucchini pasta and hear him whistling and it pleases me for I never had it before, I never had stable happiness, joy for more than two minutes, I never had a whistling lover, while he fixes the tv or washes up, and yes, I will sing more in the house, as he likes, but then this writer... his descending scales are like a musical yawn, a sudden sigh an air of release, come on, write write, finish us off like in nocturne 27, 2 in surely, the definitive ending of all piano music... And when Chopin ends he ends us all too! The heavenly call of fluidity and reverence to God's own work.. I am sure Chopin is up there thinking how kids emoting all over the piano is not a compliment to his works... Even i Can see it's not meant to be like that. Take 60mg codeine wash it down with some mumm and stand in front of neptune in piazza maggiore and then feel how it feels not to be able breathe without chopin, hearing the angels. he is dressing to go out and singing tristesse, I managed to find a dress to put on in all the moving house mess, I may well look like a stick of liquorice in the final cut but still, it's only for a red peach or Singapore sling, oh mercy ! I hear Chopin and feel utterly gauche and de trop, blowsy and ugly like a pantomime dame in comparison to his sleek whippet Chanel coat hanger, snorting coke and looking like a spaghetta. Inhuman-oid. I wish that Chopin was aware of what it does to us. To hear it. Maybe he is aware... I wish I coud find my moschino couture... I miss my perfumes, god knows which city it is resting in now....Do you think it's ok to adore music so...? To the extent that i would rather listen to music than see people, but so often! I sit here waiting to go out and know that we will listen to more, maybe we will stay in all, dressed up and pour our the remaining champagne and enjoy our own company feeling gorgeous... I associate Chopin with slenderness... His understatement is seductive to a very heightened level. Up up up. Pull us in with yrour touch of genius . I am wrapped up in resistance and having one cheek turned away like the priest in a confessional, and so I am not totally seduced, like Eurydice. I won't shout about it, I won't talk im terms of coming. I will only say I love it,i respect these works of chopin. I revere them. Ravel gets my sex. Chopin, no.