November 25th, 17:57 | Definitely scarf weather

Muscle memory is waaaaaay harder to train than I'd remembered it being. Oww, and other wimpery noises here.

So it's been awhile, and I thought I'd try playing the piano again. (It was a slow day, and I've always liked being able to just kind of hammer out my emo moments on the piano; my teacher was also a pisces, so I have tonnes of appropriately moody sheet music to pick from. Thank God for Chopin, is what.)

Anyway, today's selection was Comptine d'un autre ete: L'apres-midi from the Amelie soundtrack, which I picked up a year or two ago, and let me tell you something. Yann Tiersen? Must have huge, fucking hands because my fingers (left hand pinkie? I'm looking at you), after half an hour of trying to block through that piece? So sore. And it's not even very difficult or anything; if I had to rate it, I'd put it at grade 3 or 4 level. It's just... spread out, man. My hands may not be Rachmaninov- (or, for that matter, RecentEx-)sized or anything, but I have a fairly reasonable piano-playing reach. I guess my fingers aren't that strong anymore. (Odd; you wouldn't think they'd have atrophied so, what with all the crappy prose and emails I churn out on a daily basis.)

So that's been this afternoon. Got to feeling kind of sleepy and idle (always a good precursor to piano practice...) after I got back from the goodbye lunch with Pigeon. (Who is ditching town tonight; by tomorrow he'll be on a plane to Quebec City, and I likely won't see him before May or thereabouts.) We had Indian food at what is probably my favourite Indian restaurant (that I've tried) in the city (Chan? It's right near you -- we have to go sometime; their garlic naan is to die for) which was nice. So I'm all full of mild curry and basmati and all kinds of others things I can't pronounce. So tasty.

My plans to go catch the Snot Rockets (a punk band who have apparently been around for 11 years -- they can't be bad, right?) is being challenged by the announcement of a nifty-phonics-sounding group of bands lined up at the club for which my friend is the booking agent. Apparently I might have plans for Saturday night after all...

(Strange to think of myself as being "into" the small, independent band scene again. Nice to see me getting out of the house though.)

In the meantime, I have to go meet my parents in the food court of the mall, so we can go to Canadian Tire for a random sale? And then after that, I think my dad and I are tackling brioche. (Seriously? We found one recipe that calls for 8 eggs. With 4 cups of flour?? That's a souffle, not a brioche! Sheesh. Still, it'll be exciting.)

Last book read:

( prev ++ 0 comment/s ++ next )

prev ++ next
(or "today"'s)