I played the oboe in middle school band, because I was determined to announce to the world that I was a misfit
“Discipline sets you free,” the professor went on. “It’s like jazz. You can’t be great at improvising if you don’t learn your chords and scales first.”
I read it here, at Eileen Huang’s blog.
the oboe – is a teenaged girl with a thin nose and sharp teeth that she fancies looks like a vampire’s. she collects pieces of different coloured quartz and likes to step into dark closets to hit the stones off of each other to see the sparks. because of this, she always smells smoky and odd, and her throat is closed all up. she is a narrow aperture. (i realise that the oboe is useful, difficult, and unique, and is the instrument that the entire orchestra is supposed to tune to, but i’ve never been a fan of the double reed. apologies.)
The writer is creating her personal “Peter & The Wolf” story. This is what she did to us poor oboes! Of course the word “odd” is somehow appropriate. You know?
Now excuse me while I go into a dark closet. You see, I have some stones here … 😉
I’ve decided to give you a break from BQODs, TQODs, FBQDs and possibly MQODs (this last one might change) unless they are Advent or Christmas related.
Are you breathing a huge sigh of relief? I’ll bet!
But of course they’ll be back January 1, 2011. Just you wait and see!
I think beginner oboe possibly sounds worse than beginner violin. Truly. I sound like I’m strangling a tubercular duck. It’s not pretty!
Do You Think The Menacing Oboe Made The Movie Jaws, Or The Complete Absense Of Mechanical Shark In Da Making?
If they invent an oboe that can produce a tone without turning the performer the color of a young Beaujolais, I might pick the thing back up.
my oboe broke today
I’m buying the $12,000 oboe.
(I can’t even imagine!)
i’m laughing my *** off as my dad tries to fit me and city hall in the same frame because in a circle around the tall table just behind him are two 60-year-old couples sharing a sweetly smelling joint sticking shyly out of a cigarette holder. not only that, but as my dad’s standing there taking these pictures, one of the old guys is holding the joint out to me asking me if i want to partake. of course i wanted to, but i politely refused, laughing, because i was out with my dad. the old dude’s reply? “come on! it’s the opera!” indeed! and, let me say for the fourth time in this post, 3.5 hours is quite a long time to last without at least a breeze of intoxication.
(The blogger was attending San Francisco Opera on the same night as us. We missed this little scene.)
