Posts tagged lefty

After a bloody battle exhausting, now is the culminating moment of truth. Our hero catches beautiful powerlessly outside the sharp edge of a cliff by a dusty hand holding. Gravel is falling for him and he shudders at the thought that he could be the next to succumb to the horrible fate. Tumbleweed blows past as its claws grip weakens the arm is desperate to give in to the immense pain searing through his arm. He can hear a vulture at a distance, the impending death every breath it takes. Only then will the dark villain appears standing over him, a mischievous smile dripping from his face scarred, and he ruthlessly plunges a dagger in the arm grasping our hero and cruelly twists it into muscle. Oh, the pain and anguish! What tragic end!

But wait! Surprisingly our inventories hero all the power in your being to remove the blade with his free hand and throw it in the back of the evil villain. Hero ducks smoothly as the villain falls off to a Smooshy death. Our hero triumphantly pulls up on the edge of the cliff and back to safety. He mounts his horse and rides off as the golden sun on the mountains.

Applause Cue.

Change just a couple details, such as dusty cliff and being the male hero, and that almost exactly describes my recent episode with a mosquito.

I was playing violin in a formal Victorian-style house concert. A difficult move of "Siete Canciones Populares Espa ± ol" Manuel de Falla had reached a high point, the excruciatingly delicate and difficult to finish. The last note, a single note is held for an eternity, getting softer and soft, decomposing in the candlelight. My bow complained of fatigue at any time of the fall from the chain of the stage, but I controlled with experience and conviction. Gently, gently, I thought as I watched the hair bow is exhausted, hardly any left turn and 14 seconds to play.

May be done?

I heard a man in the front row move in his chair and a moth beat against the windowpane smokey when the horrible, cruel pain impressed! Fire burning appeared to be consuming the blood of my veins. Moments later another stabbing a few inches above the first tear, then another and another! Dread beat me in a wave that I realized that my piece was about to suffer a quick death: 5 hits premature death!

Only then the truth hit and I remembered that violinists are a long line of tough, brave survivalists. We faced the Rotten Tomatoes and small "cat" jokes, not to mention learning to play an backbreakingly instrument so hard in a world of criticism. Frozen fingers, we take our gear through sleet and snow to watch wicked weekly rehearsals without pay. When the humidity is difficult, the pitch becomes more difficult. Like the leather before lawmen of the old west, the prima donna in taffeta dress designer always wins and 9 of this size was not about to let that take over my mosquito concert, dammit.

Somehow I summoned the courage to stop the last note that decrease. The number was over. I usually removed the violin under my chin and deftly swatted the disgusting leech my right shoulder, without a blur. She fell down and crushed me with the heel of the boot. Victorious applause followed as reverence and rubbed gently red bruises, a painful reminder of my enemy.

In Attack concert was an unqualified success, no pun intended. I called my last ounce of strength to run the rest of the program for my faithful audience. As a crowd after a shooting, the witnesses returned to their homes to share the gristly tale of survival. Once the candles were extinguished I took a moment to examine the shadows scar horrible that would mark me forever, or at least for the next week or so.

My eyes narrowed moved to the little blip on the ground crushed hemlock. Was so small and benign spotted on the floor wax as a sad victim of his need to consume. She and I had so much blood shed in the struggle. I was lucky to leave with a scar. She lost her life. This is how the West is ruthless and cruel. It's not pretty. You have to fight but you'll get eaten alive.

I I bowed my head in a moment of silence before I carried my violin up in my air-conditioned Honda and went out into the sun.

*Rhiannon Schmitt (nee Nachbaur) is a professional violinist and music teacher who has enjoyed creative writing for many years.

Rhiannon has worn the hats of businesswoman, events promoter, classical music radio host and school orchestra music arranger in her 29-years of life.

Her business, Fiddleheads Violin School & Shop, has won several distinguished young entrepreneur business awards for her comittment to excellence. Her shop offers beginner to professional level instruments, accessories and supplies. http://www.fiddleheads.ca provides a rich resource of information on her school, products for sale and her many writings.

Rhiannon is Founding President of the Shuswap Violin Society [http://www.violinsociety.ca] She dedicates much of her time to community music projects and helping young musicians in financial need.

Rhiannon currently writes music columns for two BC publications and has been featured in Australia's "Music Teacher Magazine." Writing allows her to be a creative "smart-ass" and to teach people that the world of music is as fun as you spin it to be.

Guitar Hero Custom: Napalm Death - You Suffer

Essential Willie Nelson $10.99 With 41 tracks drawn from nine record labels, the two-disc Essential Willie Nelson is impressive in its breadth. Disc one is simply superb; it begins with 1961's "Night Life," recorded for the obscure Bellaire label, and moves on to several of Nelson's early 1960s Liberty recordings, an overlooked gem recorded for Monument in 1964 ("I Never Cared for You"), a cherry-picked selection of his RCA and...