by pieces of moments

Today is bizarre. I opened up my itunes and I honestly wanted to listen to Mozart (piano concerto no. 12)—I who agree with Glenn Gould that Mozart died too late rather than too early—hit play on Mozart. I know, right?? On top of that, I actually enjoyed my walk across the frozen tundra to the café today because the feeling of thawing out was so delicious after being frozen solid. Weird. Well, that and I put on my headphones (way more fun than earmuffs) to listen to Radiohead as I walked. There is something almost unbearably wonderful to me about walking in step to a rhythm either real or imaginary.

Speaking of rhythms, apparently (according to his play list from December 3, 3009) Thom Yorke has been diggin’  Steve Reich‘s “It’s Gonna Rain.” Nice. Though, I find it curious that he specifically denotes Part I. Guess he’s not a fan of Part II? Curiouser and curiouser.

I’ve also been feeling homesick for an apartment that I still don’t posses. It’s a strangely disembodied brand of homesickness. If I had a table, I would set it like this:

{ via }

…and that would be the every day china, because I believe in every day luxuries. Okay, maybe not every day…but often. It’s kinda like how I wish I had the energy to listen to entire works of Beethoven every day.

Beethoven is one of my favorite things on the planet. Playing through his piano sonatas is like letting dark chocolate melt on your tongue. It makes the passage of time unravel its complexities, whilst being pleasurable, possibly annoying, but ultimately divine. Speaking of luxuries, wouldn’t it be great to get to have chats like this with Daniel Barenboim every day? Phenomenal.

One of my favorite things about Beethoven has nothing to do with the sound of his music, but with his humanity. True, he is often treated like some kind of god of the ancient order, but ultimately it’s his humanness that elevates him. We can all identify with loss, so we resonate with a man who loses his most precious thing: his hearing. We all identify with attempting to transcend, so we marvel and cheer when he writes some of his most complex music after becoming deaf. We all identify with failure, so coming across some “bottom drawer” works (since Beethoven didn’t think to literally burn his bad ideas as his nervous successor Brahms would), though we cringe to hear them, makes us think that perhaps we, too, could attain some kind of greatness despite our shortcomings.