I wrote a bit of this five days ago and I didn’t know what to go with, to have that blog and its title and then “Five Days Later” or this blog and its title and “Five Days Earlier”. As you can see I went with that one, because now is a much nicer time than then, so I though we might live this instead and look back on something else. I will not let this become forgotten strange and archived because otherwise all my other meaningless blather will really be, well – meaningless blather.
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Earlier, 5 Days Earlier
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I have singing lessons as of Monday. If I want to. If I recover from the tonsillitis and the cold, and if I send my singing teacher an email. This whole thing is harder than I thought.
Tonight, together with preparing the first ever blog to be made on my new computer I have been listening to some songs. Ooh, that’s another thing. The teacher, when I organised this for Monday (possibly), I knew that she was going to say one of two things- one: “So… then I’ll have to bring in some sheet music and music theory books for you.” Gah. Awful, not into it. Or… “So… what kind of music are you into? Why don’t you bring some along that you would like to learn to sing?” I like that last one. That’s my type of teacher. And that’s exactly what she said. So that’s what I have been doing, trying to find some songs I would like to sing. Or at least songs that I won’t make a total idiot out of myself trying to sing. I don’t know how many we’ll get through in my $27.50 half an hour. I can’t believe that she is worth 91¢ per minute! I hope she is worth 91¢ per minute.
“I’ve been waiting
I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life
But it’s not quite right
And this wheel
It’s impossible if possible …” – Silversun Pickups, Lazy Eye
Mostly, I confess, I am feeling down. I know it’s 11:25 and I should be in bed. I should forget it all. Or have found a better dream long ago. I recorded myself again. And I know, I know, because I feel it too, that I am only talking about this singing thing, over and over again. How it sucks and nothing is happening and I know…
I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do with all of it. If I’m ever famous you’ll thank me, I swear. Ha.
But I found that apart from sounding so much more out of tune than I could have guessed, I also sound like a little kid – Not Cool. I want to forget it. I really do. And become a computer technician, or a sound recordist, or something where happiness isn’t so HARD.
That’s it isn’t it? It all comes back to the fact that living is hard and dying is easy. Fuck.
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Now
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I have had those singing lessons. I have done it. Not like all (any) of you were hanging on my every word to see the exciting fate of this failed musician… but anyway. I did. (Inclines head dramatically and raises eyebrows) – And it was awesome.
I walked in and we got to talking and I said that I was really happy because these lyrics that I had been searching for for years had just turned up on the internet – “Ta Douleur” by Camille, in the original French. I was really happy and it turned out that that was one of the songs that I can actually sing half well and had brought along. And at the mention of this my teacher jumps into action and says that she loves this song and she learnt it for some sort of music test thingy, and grab the lyrics, let’s sing it!
OK. Um, sure, why not.
So we do, with nothing but weak fake piano string chords for accompaniment. And it’s really quite good. By this point I have told her all my horror stories from “Prophecy For The Failed Musician” and she is duly shocked and now after hearing me sing she says “I don’t know what you’re on about having a terrible voice, I dig you voice, it’s good. I don’t want to hear that derogatory stuff out of you in this class ever again.”
I was a little taken aback and in true style I tried to argue that it was hard to break a habit like that and how so many people had told me how bad my voice was and having to live with it all this time and and…
But I had to swallow it. My singing teacher had told me to cut the crap and be positive about my (good?) voice. And I will, starting now, I will not add in all the little references about how bad or not good it is. It will just ‘be’. I swear.
“Sing” by the
But I also (I think) made the mistake of mentioning “Fidelity” by Regina Spektor. I only used it as and example of where my high range cuts out… but she said lets do that one next time since, get this – I really seem to know this Camille one. Has she even heard the song? I hope she freaks, I haven’t heard anyone cover this well. Ever. No singing teacher in the world can save you from the “ah hah ha”s. But I almost think that it’s what I need. I good kick up the ass, regardless of whether I can do that song or not, I need to be doing it. Does any of this make sense?
It’s all so easy. This. The blog. It’s like a flow from my fingers, of pleasing sounding thoughts, with good music and no interference from the world around me. I’ve been having trouble with that lately. It’s partly not enough sleep, partly the influence of “Crushing”, and partly because I feel a song coming on. It’s like that. Almost supernatural or unconscious. I haven’t written about it before but, when it happens these bits of phrase jump out at me. Just this morning on the train I heard:
“Don’t bullshit me Marianne.”
and
“Nathan’s leaving today.
What?
Nathan’s leaving today.
What? I still can’t hear you.
Nathan’s leaving today, you deaf cunt.
Ah…”
I don’t know what it is about these phrases that just caught my lyrical ear, but I just smirked to myself and thought – I have to do something with those. Something has to be written or sung or something. It’s too good. Just spread this grin across my face and shake my head and point at these people I don’t know, and say “That’s just brilliant. I love that. Thank you. Thank you. With just one phrase like that a day you can help save starving lyricists like myself…”
Ha. I’m going to write a song soon, I can feel it. Or maybe just a good blog. It’s surprising how interchangeable the two can be.
Speaking of Amanda (and yes indeed I am, she’d get it) this marks the first blog title that is a rip off of a Dresden Dolls reference. I think I’m getting over that. I think the mere fact that I can do that is evidence that I am more than that. I was thinking about writing another useless letter a few nights ago in the shower (as one does), and I had some really good ideas, but they quickly got tangled and I know that emails are useless. And I know that I will see her again.
It’s fate. What is it with me and all this fate crap? A few years ago I would have said exactly that. But now I think I’m starting to believe just a little (“Mrs O” is playing; this is irony central here, influenced much?) I think it’s from watching too much “Look Both Ways” (it’s an Australian movie by Sarah Watt) I’m feeling simultaneously like it’s all out of my control and depressed and yet happy that I’m here for the ride, partly knowing that good things will happen.
But back to Manda. I think there is something. When all the crap in the world is getting me down and I’m trying to tune out the fights of idiots at the train station, who just want to grab and shake and diffuse, and scream at for all the stupid shit that they are preoccupied with, because IT DOESN’T MEAN A THING and I know that some of them will NEVER REALISE, and it’s a tragic waste of human life, because the one person in the world who might ever have the confidence to tell them what an INCONSEQUENTIAL DICKHEAD they are, might never find them, or tell them, or end up punched in the face after doing so… !
But I can listen to her and it’s like none of it is happening. No, not ‘not happening’, but that someone understands and for a moment or two a day I can plug myself directly into the solace of ‘rock love’ as she would say, and be free from it. And I think that’s what she wants out of her music. And here I am. It’s the whole rightness of it that’s so special.
I’m just sorry that I’ll never understand. I hope my reiterations are interesting though.
I’m getting closer.
It’s a process. And it must all be tied into the blog and singing lessons and life’s ambition and the planets and karma and her and me and all that. But I’m loving it.
I think I’ll post some photos next time. I feel like photos.
☆Anika☆
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