We all do it. Bake a cake. Slap little triangle hats on the kids. Plug the cake full of candles. Light the candles, stand in a circle, sing a song. Make a wish and then blow out the candles and eat the cake. Face it. It’s a ritual, looks a bit like something like witchcraft. Sharing my wish before I blew out the candles, Wished for world peace.
My twenty years on island. There are still a few of us village idiots. Everyone I saw today and like other visits uptown. They are all treating me differently. That’s ok. Today I cried when I mentioned RJ at the mercantile. Still hurts Badly. They say it takes 4 years, it’s been two. I’ve obviously been “touched” so it doesn’t hurt my feelings.
Came home and my son asked me to add fabric to the sleeves of the hoodie RJ gave him when he was little. So this isn’t just me, it’s our whole family. All my kids, my husband, myself. All we can do is endure time without him.
The lady at the store said that know one even suspected RJ was depressed. Ah and that is why I am treated differently. Everyone knows, small town and all that. They haven’t yet asked me if I’ve taken my meds today, but if they did, I wouldn’t mind at all.
Saw my doctor this am, went over the hospital discharge papers and list of medications. During our last visit he said it is absolutely time to quit smoking cigarettes. He was delighted that I have. Been ten days. Talked with the lady at the mercantile about, she quit cold turkey. I have patches, gum and an arsenal of mommies little helpers. Either way, who cares. Ten days are Ten days. Since my last visit I’ve gained ten pounds. WOW. Time to take a look at that. Whoah. I have no explanation for that, but junk food. At least that’s something I can handle myself. I just need a hand moving the work out machines around here at the house and I’ll start moving my body soon.
MATH IS COOL. How fast could one calculate gas milage for 1500 miles? Miles to Kilometers. Then convert US dollars to Canadian.
I tried but I’m heavily sedated. Will try again in the morning.
Fibonacci is easy.
This all started because I had to figure out two liters a day of water. It’s more than a two quart /64 ounce bottle of Gatorade. All for my kidney issues. Got all into it, lol. Must sleep now. Long story short, 64 ounces is less than 2 liters.
Thinking Ink. Loving being back in the flow. So grateful to Cascade Hospital for so much, mostly bringing me back to the surface. Thank You! With the new meds I feel like me again. Creating new art with an arsenal of art supplies that sat for a long time waiting for me to return.
I love that I quit smoking everything and drinking coffee and I wasn’t even in the rehab program, was in for treatment for major depression. The group work was the best part. My missing link. Awaiting my DBT screening appt. So much hope that I qualify for the program, it’s a year long- individual work and more group. If It doesn’t work out, I’ll find something else.
Dr.’s appt at 9am and then art therapy later in the day.
Time for meds and then the bed. Going to be a busy day of impeccable self care.
While listening to this:
This letter was originally provided by my last counselor and every now and then I go back and read it again, it has brought me such comfort. Sharing with hope it will inspire my millennial children.
Help is needed on the front line, actively blocking the continuing construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline. Bring your prayer skills, your peacemaking skills and your Nonviolent Direct Action skills.
What to expect on the road:
The trip is approximately 25 hours from Seattle. We will drive through with drivers working in shifts. You can get on the bus in Olympia, Seattle or possibly somewhere in between if it’s enroute.The bus is a standard Thomas school bus, so bring what you need to make your ride comfortable!
For many years I have made as much fun of The Clintons as possible. Good clean fun. I think she blew it when she forced Planned Parenthood to endorse her. Huge Mistake. Her own email server didn’t help, neither did Wiki Leaks. It really would have been weird to have a rapist as first man. So we get to have a new first lady. That’s so much better than a rapist first man. Ok, time to take my meds. Seriously the wife of an impeached president as president? Exactly what made her think she had a snowballs chance in hell? It was her attitude in the primaries, Hillary was all like, “You fuckers owe me.” I held out for Sanders/Warren 2016. The DNC Wasserman thing exposed tons of behind closed doors corruption in the DNC. It exposed her character on the levels that she was willing to sink to. She acted like she had it in the bag. Well and a friend who was a delegate went to DC and watched as Hillary on the floor facing the crowd, Patty Murray walked by and Hillary turned her back on her. So really, she’s a republican you see and the game worked like this, Trump is the democrat. Let’s just call it the November surprise. Trump did an excellent job with tonage of reverse psychology and actually killed the GOP. So I’m hoping this will be fun. What a fun birthday president. I meant present. Her Monsanto Monster campaign manager- another slap in the face of democracy. I could count her mistakes but I want to think happy thoughts today. Wow HC was just thrown under the bus.
courtesy of wikileaks… it’s real, she stood in front of the count sign.
ok, back to knitting my masterpiece.
Voluntarily entered inpatient hospital treatment for my suicidal ideations that were stalking me. My choice to enter treatment. My medications needed tweaking something was wrong with me and I was actually able to meet with an awesome psychiatrist to sort it out and stay to stabilize under supervision. That means C3PO came to visit to check my vitals several times by day and night. This is what I call serious professional help. Feeling very humbled and in total appreciation for Cascade Hospital. They took very good care of me. Why did I wait so long? The groups were powerful and healing and helpful, attended all of them. They taught me to be disciplined with the meds so I can be disciplined taking them on schedule at home, so I’m happy with the experience. They are the best treatment center hands down.
Stayed for one week and actually quit smoking cigarettes. Quit date: November 1st. They gave me a new form of nicotine patch and gum for several weeks and it’s also working. Home and managed to watch the Seahawks game last night without smoking. Woke up and still not smoking. Quit drinking caffeinated coffee also. Also gone are my marijuana cravings to stop the lucid dreaming. The Gabapentin was added I think to buffer the withdrawal from Marijuana. Taking 300 mg in the am, 300mg @ noon and then 600mg at night for a total of 1,200 mg a day. Works great for the lingering pain in my neck from the car crash that gave me post concussion syndrome. Also for that, a non narcotic myo relaxer is working great, it’s called Tizanidine. These drugs work great in concert.
Thumbs up on the Prazosin. It’s working. Haven’t had a nightmare since I’ve been on it. Added Gabapentin am, mid day and then before before bed. Prozac every other day and then Olanzapine- also known as Zyprexa an anti-psychotic for the imaginative suicidal ideations. I know it’s primarily for bi polar or schizophrenia, I don’t have either condition. My diagnosis is still Post Concussion Syndrome and Depression which can be mild to major. I took it briefly in 2014 when RJ committed suicide because I was seeing him in my house and talking to him in front of people. It worked great. I can still dream the big difference is that the dreams are happy and quite normal for me, who dreams big. And for insomnia, added Trazadone nightly. That’s four meds at bedtime, so far so good. No more sleep issues. Thank you Cascade!
It was a big deal to commit to taking Prazosin for nightmares because I was self medicating with marijuana. The drugs that shrinks know about are much better for me. No more self medicating. I was convinced that only marijuana shuts down big dreams. I stand corrected. Still on Prozac every other day. Follow up care in therapy for three months and then outpatient treatment at the UW for DBT therapy that will be a year long.
all my friends are HEALING take it slow…
they gave us headphones and in that kind of rehab center i could walk around playing air drums having so much with it, flying high on nice new meds, when people looked at me they smiled. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
We want to take this opportunity to acknowledge our incredible collaborators Debbie, Daniel, Megan, Amanda, Horizon, Mary, Katie, Bob, and others who achieved the nearly impossible this month. (And Bill wants to acknowledge Eric Ross for his incredible leadership on this!)
Despite daunting logistical hurdles and less than 3 days lead time, these people boldly executed 6 simultaneous solidarity guerrilla light projection actions in 6 cities on behalf of UltraViolet. These solidarity actions called attention to the prevalence of sexual assault, a culture that trivializes sexual violence, and the importance of believing and honoring the survivors. The rapid deployment and tactical skills of this team is an astounding example of the growing capacity and potential of our network of tacticians and Solidarity Brigades. (See more below.)
If you share our pride in the work of these grassroots change-agents and want to join or support our Solidarity Brigade network then click HERE to volunteer!
“Don’t Duck Democracy!” Join Backbone in Washington, DC for another FlushTheTPP multi-day training and series of actions organized with Popular Resistance November 12-17. CLICK HERE TO REGISTER. If you want to be part of the Backbone imagery and action team in DC or help Peter and Bill prepare beforehand, please email Bill. After 4 years of work to Flush the TPP, with major efforts to train teams and execute actions at negotiations in Virginia and Utah and now our THIRD set of actions in DC – we hope to once and for all Flush the TPP into the sewer of defeated folly.
It’s because of amazing volunteers and supporters like you that social movements for equity, justice, and environmental well being are growing more powerful and vibrant. This work makes a difference! We heard from many survivors who participated in the UltraViolet actions and those who witnessed them how heartened and emboldened they were by the very public displays of solidarity.
Thank you again for being part of Team Backbone.
In Solidarity, Gratitude and Collaboration,
PS – If you don’t have time to help in other ways, you can still be part of the Lumbar Club and pitch-in to provide the essential support that propels this work forward. Lend your support TODAY!
Best friends. The bunny watches the bird fly around and the bird watches the bunny eat her bird seed. As soon as the bunny wakes up, she hops directly to the bird seed bowl and drags it backwards from the parakeet. Eats till she’s happy then hops around the room like she’s on cat nip. Play music and the bird sings. I’m trying to crochet another piece and this little bunny is all over my hands watching me. So I set the project down and began typing.
She followed me and jumped all over the key board. It’s sort of like having a kitten but ten times cuter. Have to baby proof stuff, keep her away from wires, my coffee, ahem. When she wants attention, she gets it. Humbled by the way she does this all without a sound. She is teaching me telepathy. Organized 6 bags of wool and some acrylic yarn. There is an old tale on power storage. Witches and Sailors go way back. They are called knotted cords. During windy days like today witches would knit or crochet or tie simple knots from any sort of cord. The winds would calm as the cords were knotted. When sailors would pull into a harbor they would find the witches and purchase the cords to take back out to sea. When caught in dead air, they would begin to slowly untie the cords and voila, 5 knots of wind, or 10 or 20.
Set the bunny back in her cage and now its back to crocheting. This project will be a shoulder wrap just for me, not for sale. And yes, the winds are calming. Wonderful therapy. Read recently that listening to Enya can lower stress levels by 65%.
need new batteries for the metronome. 9v.
At least it’s over with. And totally worth it. Makes me sleepy.
Saw some sick sick people in the er a few days back. No thank you.
It was the strangest experience. They gave me a wheel chair, but I had to stand to go to the bathroom and the bathroom looked ripped apart shit on the walls, floors, seat. Like I said, SICK PEOPLE.
Backed out someone took the wheelchair I and found another much cleaner restroom… When I met a seemingly nice janitor I mentioned the mess. Janitor smiled said it would be taken care of soon, that’s what they do. A complete lie. Four hours later, stil messier than a commercial kitchen ravaged by rats, shit everywhere. Some er huh?
Hint: If the bathroom looks like that, expect the same level of care from the dr’s and nurses. They simply don’t give a rats ass. So yeah, went somewhere else for the flu shot man. I’m very serious, the office in my pharmacy was 100% a cleaner environment with warm sincere caring smiles and positive energy.
Heavily referencing leaf design as temp tattoo’s for halloween eye make up. Not for sale. Make your own. Sharpie it up!
Oh how does it go? Doug died Oct 23 or 24 2013 and Rj died nearly the same day a year later-2014. My two favorite people.
Once upon a time we were out on the rez in ceremony, four days in the sun @ 115 degrees without food and water or sunscreen. At least I was. He was my back up. They let me cool my body in the river. There was a rope tied to a tree and laid down holding it floating. The water was cold but even after an hour I was still burning. Parked my little honda in the shade while I was in the river. It hadn’t been driven in a week but for that drive to river. It was less than a mile.
Began hearing this high pitched sound in the water and I figured it was time to go. Climbed into my car and drove back to camp, but didn’t make it. All I remember is seeing Doug with a hose, filling water buckets in front of Joe Little Coyote’s single wide trailer.
I don’t remember getting out of my car or walking up to him. Just bending my head under the hose and looking up to see that my car’s radiator had blown its stack in an incredible fashion. Doug suggested we leave the car and walk back to camp.
Rewind 5 days and I could write three other things like that. What that friend did for me was above and beyond and anyone I’ve ever met is pale since doug, well except for rj. My family rocks pretty though. I was not prepared for the last three days in any way. There went the hours of therapy and bottles of prozac right down the toliet. Yes, he was also a baker. The day of both of their deaths the power went out at my house. I knew both times that someone I loved very much had crossed over.
Rewind four days and my lower back was killing me, had been working up those kidney stone studies so I believed an ultrasound would find stones, probably passed them by the time I made it to the er. The pain wasn’t just physical, it was mental, spiritual and emotional. Again, I was treated horribly and met with disgust. My friend tried to help, to bring me to meet a social worker and this so called security guard wouldn’t let her in. A nurse did though. The security guard looked at my friend with hate like a demon and almost spit when he said, “I don’t know you.” My response was, nor do you know any of these sick people including yourself. What a rat bastard. Where do they find these guys? PTSD Vets just waiting for a reason to taze a patient, convincing themselves all patients are isil? All hopped up on rage and fear and low self esteem. Just like anyone else during the vibes of the upcoming election. Sedated hard core, still wearing off. Have much to say when I level out. For right now?
Feel ok to say I pulled my iv and tried to leave. Almost fell through a sliding glass door, knocking it off it’s track. Feel like taking pictures of all needle marks in my skin. They treated me like a pin cushion. That’s the way people with PTSD and Post Concusssion Syndrome are treated in ER’s and it also demonstrates perfectly how and why ObamaCare doesn’t work. Just follow the money honey. Hospitals hate sick people with poor peoples insurance. Maybe we should all go back to food stamps for hospital care.
I collapsed and had a full on nervous breakdown.
No one would tell me whose gun it was for over a year. Could have spared me some agony as I tortured myself wondering if he even owned a gun. How if I had known he owned a gun I may not have valued our friendship or let him near my kids.
Two years before someone else would tell me what happened that night. Two years today. They still haven’t told me where his ashes were placed. Not that I could manage to face it. They know that already, I’m not ready. They don’t tell me anything anymore.
I’m not seeing him in my house anymore, not talking to him in front of people anymore either. Not seeing his face on other people’s bodies anymore.
The only thing that I can think to do besides lighting a candle, is to continue to play the piano he moved into the house for me. It’s been two years since I could even bring myself to sit down at the bench. He brought that piano and died three months later.
A month after he died I found myself on a bridge downtown in extreme kidney pain after being tossed from Virginia Mason after being blamed for drug seeking behavior regarding the kidney stone obstruction. Had arrived in an aid car for it. But I have this brain damage and wasn’t making sense to them and they didn’t have a shrink on staff, so they said I was crazy and kicked me out in the middle of winter in the rain. Without calling my husband, my shoes, my id, or bus or cab fare to the fauntleroy ferry or a ferry ticket back to the island, or a ride from the vashon dock back home. Cowards that they were, they called the Seattle Police to cover their asses.
My husband heard I left the island in an aid car so he was visiting all the hospitals looking for me and he found me.
Three hours later I was treated for the kidney stones at another hospital and when they learned of his shocking death, a son to me. They sent me away with sedatives and a list of grief counselors. My mistake was not taking the meds. Depression is like a tooth cavity, without treatment it can become extremely painful.
Four months later in my still untreated grief I downed the entire bottle of those meds with a bottle of red wine that had been sitting around for months. Another trip to the ER. Seizures and convulsions for weeks after that.
That’s how I dealt with it. Not very well.
When I made it back to island, met so much hatred because I had publicly challenged gun owner irresponsibility. The community had the highest youth suicide rate in the county if not the state, because parents were leaving their guns and bullets out like candy dishes. Under beds, in closets, behind the front door, even the kitchen table, like toys. Look, if people don’t lock their liquor cabinets with kids in the house, why would they lock up their guns and ammo? Let’s not even go there about how depressed and mentally ill the parents of those dead children were to live in so much delusion. Not only do we have a high suicide rate, this island consumes a very large amount of alcohol. You know, in Alaska, they take your fucking car for a DUI, they don’t wait for the predictably certain traffic fatality.
One night after returning from the ER, I was with my kids and their friends at IGA for pizza and a beautiful young woman with long blonde hair came out screaming and staring at me and screamed to our tribe like a banshee: “I don’t fucking care, die bitch die!” She said it over and over again, got into her black suv and spun out of there like with her big girl wheels spinning brake fog. The kids know who she is, her messed up family. Her status as a career senior. None of them have much respect for her, they don’t think she’ll make it very far with that anger. It’s sort of true, driving angry like that is the same as driving drunk.
The kids shrugged it off and I haven’t said to much about it. I’m reflecting tonight about what love is, by understanding what it isn’t.
There was a haunted as fuck bus station that was turned into a music venue. The mainroom. View still mising the concrete 1/2 spiraling staircases. Best Halloween Ball and Costume Contest On The Planet.
Minneapolis rocked hard. Not like Chicago. Not like New Orleans. Minneapolis rocked because the city was dominated by His Royal Badass of Funkadelic. Purple scene began with Parliament and Bootsy Collins. Prince ran away with the title after Purple Rain, which should have been spelled Reign. Even Janet Jackson’s bass player lived in Minneapolis, gold record hanging in his living room. Used to kick it with him at this bakery called The Upper Crust, it was down the street from MCAD and he used to let me draw his face and hands while we played chess on cold days in the middle of winter.
Seattle will never hum Hendrix the way Minneapolis thumps funk. The city had the largest population of multi racial couples in the us. Never felt race issues in Mpls the way I feel here in Seattle, where the ghetto is hid over the hill from the tourists. Compared to Minneapolis this city is bleached.
Must be the space needle. An icon they softened with a ferris wheel built in a sand box. Trying to front like Paris. First of all grunge is not punk. Unlike Seattle, Minneapolis is a city that is clean. A dirty city is a city that rinses the alleys with the chemical scent of vanilla. A city with billions in pot revenue has no excuse for the ugly of calling a state of emergency/fake bankruptsty due to the homeless population. This was done by corporately twisting tax payer arms for fully funded twin stadiums with sun roofs.
Back in the emerald city there was a hair salon in a wharehouse that had a live dj, behind a fence. Two turntables and a microphone. Bass was always thumping. Concrete walls with holes punched out and the hairdressers stations were old school snap on stacking toolboxes.
The Queen on the scene was punk diva-Sonia Peterson, who taught all her peeps the art of dreds, human hair or synthetic. When the rock stars came in, she closed the shop for them for privacy the whole place was their green room, to name a few-George Clinton, Rosie Gaines, Jesse Johnson.
Back then Prince opened Paisley Park and Glam Slam. People preferred throwing big parties at Glam Slam vs 1st Ave. Little known fact that the headquarters to Eckenkar a religion of sound, lives across the street from Paisley Park. Eckenkar chose that location because they say it’s on a powerful ley line. Perfect key of energy.
Trying to remember the piano bar where his father played. BUNKERS! It was in the wharehouse district down by the river. Brick room with a piano in the corner, small place. Prince played there many times under the radar. Had this feeling when he performed those last piano concerts in Canada. Tried to get myself there but it was such short notice I couldn’t make it. That was it. No way could I manage Atlanta alone. He died a week later.
His father an accomplished jazz pianist and composer, born in LA moved from New Orleans to Minneapolis in 1948 to escape the race hate of the south. Married his wife a jazz singer from Minneapolis who he met in 1956. Married in 1957 and Prince was born in 1958. Prince was named after his father’s jazz band, The Prince Rojers Trio.
“Jazz is like fertilizer to the fruitful mind.” – Oscar Peterson ~
She is a darling with her heart shaped eyes. It’s been a while now and really it’s the sweetest experience. She doesn’t ever make a sound but has this big personality. She loves her peeps. Loves to cuddle. There is the finished wrap, it was like working a painting. Instead of adding cashmere found soft materials to weave through, soft and comfy and heavy like a sweater scarf I guess… was fun kept my hands busy and have another started.
have to add the word funkadelic to find black people.
Did you know that Sheila E’s father had this jazz club in Oakland? Or that he used to play with Santana? His orchestra played all over the bay even Provo Park in Berkeley. Sheila E. with her Father, now that was something to see.
By the time I saw Santana-sans Pete Escovedo, he was on drugs and during his perfomance paused for a while to go off on a long lecture about ufo’s. He was spent. We were too stoned to respond, we just wanted to dance. What a drainbow. Packed up our blankets and went home like, huh. Must be his blue period.
It’s like when a meth head steals your twenty bucks and lets you think you lost it and then tries to help you find it. That guy. That’s my husband’s generous opinion of Mr. Trump’s less than professional statements regarding Medicare and Social Security in the final so called presidential debate.
That was what political suicide looks like. It was supposed to be a debate not a maniacal narcissistic therapy session down a one way street. That guy. That guy who spewed blame like it was bottled up for a lifetime. That was his vividly livid bid for the button on the world stage. That dialog wouldn’t fly in a family therapy session. A smart therapist vs moderator would have ended the session after his opening remarks.
One day I realized how fucked up I am. Like forever. On that day I began to love myself for all the glitches and imperfections. Being ok with being broken.
Got some huge challenges ahead. The rest of my life to deal with only half a deck. There are some things some people do not come back from. After a tragedy people change like it or not. For me it’s now a long game requiring serious endurance. To not be provoked by anti-service dog people. Things like that. Need to create a standard answer or script for fielding all the dog questions for people who can read and do inappropriate things anyway. Something like, Where are your manners? How is it you have stayed alive all this time the way you are? Isn’t it something that the dog has to be nice to you but I don’t? What does he do? Oh he’s my asshole detector, he has this whole asshole alert thing, see? he just said he doesn’t like you.
How to be publicly and politely anti social? I’m making friends with it.
20 mg Prozac every other day & a benzo that I can take up to three times a day if needed, for PTSD, Panic. There are occasional episodes of violent nightmares. For me, if I keep my THC levels balanced, I don’t recall dreams. The moment my THC levels drop, the torture begins. Horrible enough that my doctor actually wrote a letter for a judge that said ceasing the medical marijuana would cause trauma.
Now there is new idea and it’s promising to me. But there is a drawback. The one I haven’t tried yet is Prazosin. Have had it on hand since JUNE. It’s supposed to be approved by Vets with PTSD to stop vividly disturbing lucid dreams.
For Kidney’s: Flomax, Ondansetron & 800 mg Ibuprofen. With rush to the ER for IV morphine or dilaudid during kidney stone obstructions.
Here lies the contraindication. Can’t take Flomax and Prazosin at the same time because they both lower blood pressure. It’s a concern because I have very low blood pressure. Except during kidney stone attacks then my blood pressure soars to scary heights.
The choice is to risk the absolute guarantee of THC to stop dreams for Prazosin. Which means not taking the Flomax. I’m in too much physical pain to to stop taking Flomax. Waiting until the kidney stone work up is complete.
Until then my Prazosin experiment will have to wait. First things first. The goal is to prevent kidney stone formation and painfully expensive trips to the er. I think if I can prevent that pain zone, I can cope and it also prevents the risk of getting hooked on narcotics and things like that. One step at a time. Kidney stone attacks are huge a set back during treatment for depression. It’s a complicated monster.
but wait there’s more…
They mailed it all. At first I was excited about a getting a package in the mail. This is not fun. It’s going to take a minute to fill that tank. Drop it at the lab. Wait. See a specialist, have an ultrasound and meet a dietician.
It made me puke in my mouth a little bit.
Learning to make friends with meds. My bunny jumped across my desk and knocked over my bottle of prozac, twice. I was like, duly noted. I don’t get to complain about taking them. If it was diabetes, same dif. So I take the fucking meds. I love prozac, works great. When things level I used to stop taking them. Big mistake, now I check in at least monthly to monitor depression & meds.
So this other long acting valium wow holy crow that stuff works great for in the moment. Don’t mind feeling that way for a few hours. Stops a panic attack in its tracks faster then counting to three. After a few days I began to struggle. Nice place to visit. It’s amazing to me that it over rides the prozac, so that’s good to know. By the second day I was so moody, out of space and time. All warped out but wouldn’t let myself cry.
I was like what is wrong with me? Ah, the trigger. It’s been almost two years I think this week since Rj died. During the wind storm I went out and covered the wood sheds with tarps. Found one of Rj’s helmets in the yard. He was so good about making sure that the kids were fully suited in safety gear. Had an emotional outburst over running out of candles and lamp oil and flashlights and that is for me, what I would call a panic attack.
Fell back on my safety plan. Called people and said, I’m struggling, can’t shake it, that’s all. If I need anything I’ll call back. It was a suicidal ideation that occured while on the sedative, not before. So I don’t know what to make of it. These are not a stretch of the imagination for the creative mind. Sort of like a nightmare, but being awake and sedated. All I could do was wait for it to wear off. Tried drinking coffee, haha, good night. It is very important for me to name it because it takes all the power away from it. Been working on this a while and my friends are like, ok, let me know if you need anything. I promise I will, so far so good.
Practice the Sonata in C Major. Slowly, modern musicians have a tendency to rush through it. This sheet music printed copywrite in Canada 1927. Working with a revised edition with fingering, phrasing, pedaling, general information and instructive annotations on form and structure,and interpretation by Arthur Edward Johnstone.
In considering Motzart as an artist one is struck by the marvelous growth of his God-given talent. It is sad to relate, however, that his life was one of continual struggle with poverty in spite of Court appointments and high-born friends. So poor was he at the last, indeed that his wife could not afford even humblest funeral, and altho there were many that lamented the loss of so great a genius none was found to provide him with a decent burial.
It’s SO dated, begins with: Music Education is no longer a luxury. (yeah right, like they teach this piece in any elementary, middle or high school in Washington State. )
“Lacking a Music Education, the student can only mimic the teacher-there is no musical inspiration- he has no foundation fof music knowledge upon which he can build and progress. Not only does the Composition offer the student the music score with authoritative pedaling, fingering, and pharasing, but the annotations include suggestions for competent study and practice, and for the proper interpretatons of the musical ideas.”
I’ve been asked not to listen to recordings, besides they are all played way too fast. So…. who has the metronome?