Tom Says: Safe code is boring code! Why??
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Daily Crap 2010-03-26
In any case, you see, I've always had this fantasy. Even when my playing was at its most wretched. I had this fantasy of spending months somewhere locked away, practising and practising. My parents wouldn't see me for months and months. Then one day I'd suddenly come home. A Sunday afternoon probably. In any case some time when Father would be home too. I'd come in, hardly say a word, just go to the piano, lift the lid, start playing. I'd not even have taken my coat off. I'd just play and play. Back, Chopin, Beethoven. Then on to the modern stuff. Grebel. Kazan. Mullery. I'd just play and play. And my parents would have followed me into the dining room and they'd just be looking on in astonishment. It would be beyond their wildest dreams. But then, to their amazement, they'd realise that even as I played I was reaching greater and greater heights. Sublime, sensitive adagios. Astounding fiery bravura passages. I'd climb higher and higher. And they'd be standing there in the middle of the room, Father still absently holding the newspaper he'd been reading, both of them completely astounded. In the end I'd finish with some stunning finale, then at last I'd turn to them and . . . well, I've never been sure what happens after that.
Posted Mar 05, 2010, in the late, late night. Updated updated Mar 06, 2010, in the afternoon.