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At times like this, continuing with one’s life seems impossible… and eating the entire contents of one’s fridge seems inevitable, I have two choices: to give up and accept permanent state of spinsterhood and eventually be eaten by alsatians… or not, and this time i choose not. I will not be defeated by a bad man and two stick insects! Instead, i choose vodka.
And music. And the hundred and one things that can easily replace you.

One of the best compliments I received is that I radiate heat when I play. when all the people were herded up the stairs and the topmost door of the tower was open (hence letting in the draught), everyone clutched on to their overcoats until I started to play. I never wear a coat when I play. It’s hot enough, trying to hit all the notes, and constricting to movement. michelle took her coat off because of the energy I was emanating. People can warm up to my music? Unheard of. The fantasy was a disaster as usual. I always think I can play it, but I can’t, really, When I get to the last page it’s free for all, and the sharps always get me. I can never remember if it’s D major or A major, and the G sharp just flies in and out at leisure.

See how I do that? Always thinking I’m somebody I’m not. overestimating my worth. thinking i mean something. It’s pigheadedness, is what it is. I never learn.

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