Piano squadrons, attaaaaaack!!!

Ack. I have a benefit concert tomorrow. Playing "Linus and Lucy" and "Liebesfreud." L&L should be fine, but the other I am not so sure about. Lucky for me, the Baldwin at the concert hall plays almost exactly like my mentor's piano. Which plays really, really nice. I am nervous and it won't be a perfect recital, but it's a charity function and it's a commanding piece. It will be fine, Sirianna, fine... aaaaaack.

On a less freaking-out-ish note, I found this really awesome thing on the web! "Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog." Check side bar conveniently located to the left. It is an online musical. It is amazing. I can't wait for the sequel. Those Americans really know comedy. And musicals. Leave the art films to the Europeans, I say, but let the Americans do comedy. They know how. Watch and be amazed. Also, while we are on the subject of American media, listen to "Prairie Home Companion" and "This American Life." If you are not in America, but in, say, Norway/Austria, they both have podcasts. That is all I have to say about that.

I wrote a poem a while back after pulling an all-nighter (courtesy of a trip to Tokyo and back in 24 hours - beautiful cherry blossoms, might I add). I can't really remember what it was about... Let's see... Oh. It's about a cat. It's appropriate. I will post it now. This is nice. Okay.

One Blue Eye

I put down my book one day

In the small, melancholy smell of after rain

And realized I was a cat person

I shan't take the fallen bird back to my master

I shall catch and kill and consume the canary

All by myself.

For I am an old one-eyed cat

In a one-eyed world

I've said things I can't remember saying

Dreamed things I can't remember dreaming

Walked places I can't remember walking

Without ever seeing

The left side of the street.

Perhaps I will see it

On my way back.

Yesh. That is it. I still need to edit it a bit, since I wrote it running solely on the dregs of a caffeine high from my earl grey which isn't that caffinated to begin with. I was in London the other day visiting relatives and bought some. It's the real deal. It's delicious. I am going to go drink some to calm down my typing/piano playing hands. Tea steadies the nerves of a Scot marvelously, I must say. Although really, I suppose the Scottish comes from Normandy, and Normans came from Scandinavia... egod, I'm all Scandahoovian! But then there must have been some Scottish blood in there... many generations since France. Ugh. Geneology. I'm going to have some tea now. Goodbye.