Thinking in tones today. Pingg--[insert tuning fork here].

Thing I learned today: Not everyone has a strings section in their head. I went around actually asking people. (People I know, please note.) Because I already knew that not everyone has a full fucking orchestra playing for them, I'd seen people talk about it on tv. But strings are so basic. I thought everyone at least had a strings section composing in their head.

I mean, anytime I'm not listening to music, it's there. Plucking out my moods, my thoughts, as I go along. The perfect soundtrack for my life. And I thought everyone had that. I really did. Until last night.

I had a conversation. The girl expressed awe for Daniel Johns composing the strings sections for his albums in his head. This is, like, the singular thing that I thought was perfectly normal and ordinary. So I went around asking. And apparently I'm the only person I know who can actually compose music inside their head with little to no effort.

Strange things.

I thought that part about being a talented, brilliant musician was the ability to write things down properly. Guh. Shows what I know.

(I have rock and pop and everything else that can be composed, of course. But classical music is the thing that's been in my head the longest, and it's what I do when I'm not thinking, so. Yeah. No idea where I was going there. Abrupt word stop. Hmmpphoosah.)

Sang for over an hour today. Still coughing like mad, but did it anyway. Shocked, really. I'd always avoided singing while sick before. Hurts your voice, and all that, or so I recall being told sometime or other. But I still sounded alright. A bit hoarse and rough around the edges, but I liked it well enough. Can't wait for my healthy voice to come back though. Obsessions. Mm.

Read Optional Music for Voice and Piano (Poppy Z Brite short story) three times in school today. Can relate. To every word. Well, except the bit about killing people with your voice. But, really, that hasn't been tested yet. So. We shall see.

revoless.
5:23 p.m.
October 19, 2001.
comments? 0.

sleepy and sick. no creativity today. or peace treaties with self and other concepts