Posted by: jt | March 7, 2008

i need a piano

As much as I love words, nothing is so cathartic for me as locking myself in a room with a piano, a giant stack of music and time. Music is therapy. Of the purest kind, for me. In my darkest moments I’ve wondered if I only play to accompany myself when I sing, but that’s just not true. I just need to play.

I could have been a professional pianist – still could be, I suppose – except I refuse to play for anyone else. I play for me. If you’re going to go pro, you have to play a lot of bullshit old school crap that makes me want to claw my eyes out with its rules. You can play all the Baroque music you want, I will go no earlier than Mozart. And even there, I’m choosy. Yes, I am pretentious enough to be choosy about Mozart.

I don’t just want to listen. I want to create. I want to take someone else’s brilliance and creativity and make it my own. I want to twist their thoughts and shape them, mold them, abuse them until they are mine and mine alone.

My Grandpa died on Wednesday.

I still, really, have no words. He led a long, healthy life and you can’t really call it unexpected when someone leaves after 96 years. He was ready. And we were never going to be ready.

And I need a piano.

Since I don’t have one in this godforsaken city, tonight I’m handing it over to a gay boy with a piano. And a guitar. He gets a little whiny at times, so lyrics are posted below each video.

Somehow Rufus singing this strikes just the right tone of reverence and irreverence that my abandoned conservative Christian upbringing needs:

Agnus dei
Qui tollis peccata mundi
Dona nobis pacem

In case you didn’t grow up singing that in church, that translates to:
Lamb of God
Who takes away the sins of the world
Grant Us Peace.

I don’t know what this next song is about for Rufus, but it’s kind of where I am right now. Or at least where I’m trying to get to.

When I am older than
These small goddamned hills
And there’s no reason for
My mind to be still

Oh, how I’ll feel like a beautiful child
Such a beautiful child again
Such a beautiful, beautiful child again

When I have finally found my room filled with toys
Be banging on my crib excited by noise

Oh, how I’ll feel
Oh, how I’ll feel
Oh, how I’ll feel like a beautiful child
Such a beautiful child again
Such a beautiful child
Such a beautiful child again

And when there’s nothing to gain
Or bring me pain
Or pin the blame
On you or myself

And when they finally fall
These wailing walls and burning crosses
Gods, twilight and all

Oh, how I’ll feel
Oh, how I’ll feel
Oh, how I’ll feel like a beautiful child
Such a beautiful child again
A beautiful child
Such a beautiful child again
A beautiful child
Such a beautiful child again

When I am older than
These small goddamned hills

I think that’s it for tonight.

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Responses

  1. Here’s to Grandpa – a beautiful child again

    I send you a crushing bear hug through these Internet tubes

  2. Thanks, Dianne. :-) Your hug is very much appreciated.


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