me as a beginning musician:
wow, that actually didn't sound as bad! I'm super proud of myself!
I've played this one phrase twenty times and something about the musicality still isn't right. I'm putting too much emphasis on the e flat and my marcatissimo sounds more like a staccato so I'm basically a failure
E: have you asked all of your flat mates to watch out for me?
I: huh? No?
E: holy fuck, you’re a bad liar!
I: I’m a bad liar?
I: am I a bad liar? I’m the fucking liar master there’s no better liar than me! You have no idea what I’ve gotten away with
E: tell me. What have you gotten away with?
I: you don’t want to know
I like seeing you laugh
Holy fuck, Vilde… she’s such a nag about kosegruppa
E: kosegruppa! I had completely forgotten
I: you can’t tell her that, she’ll get pissed. She’s scared people only joined for the parties
E: yeah, I was there to meet you
E: yeah, do you think I was there to have fun?
I: you had seen me before that first kose-meeting?
E: yeah. I saw you the first day of school
I: hey Vilde. No we don’t have a Christmas tree here. Yeah but if you’re so fucking keen on having a Christmas three you’ll have to buy it. You can buy a Christmas tree everywhere, Vilde! Kjellandsplass liksom. Yeah yeah, awesome.
E: Christmas tree?
I: yeah, I haven’t told you. About Kosegruppa I’m having a Christmas event here on Friday
E: here? Friday?
I: yeah. You wanna come?
E: I… I have actually promised my mom that… i talked to her today and she wanted me to come home and… eat and stuff. Or i don’t know. I was just thinking about staying there for a while.
we’ve been having a sharps vs flats war on this blog, and I have good news for both sides: this war is not about nothing, because sharps and flats are not the same.
I’m going to paraphrase an article from a 1930s music magazine by sid hedges:
a pianist can never play perfectly in tune. if a piano were perfectly tuned it would be possible to play upon it only in one key. this peculiarity is due to the fact the octave does does not split up in 12 equal parts–and consequently, the semitones are of varying sizes. a piano tuner has to “split the difference” between varying notes so that all of the scales sound fairly accurate. a pianist has to make one note serve for d sharp and e flat, when actually they are not the same. a violinist, making their own notes, is able to observe the proper distinction.
if you sing up the the scale of e major, you will find yourself making the d sharp (the leading tone) very sharp. if you sing up the scale of e minor, you will instinctively make your e flat very flat–considerably more so than the note on the piano.
a violinist can test the matter with the same two scales. first, they play up an e major scale, ensuring their intonation is flawless, and put a pencil mark on the fingerboard where d sharp is. next, they play a c minor scale and find that the e flat lands about a quarter of an inch below d sharp.
getting brand new music at the beginning of rehearsal, to be played right away, 27 ledger lines above your comfortable sight reading range. is that an e flat? an a flat? an f?? nobody knows but God and the conductor
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Rex hates anything that has to do with dental work–dental cleaning, mouth surgery, even just a regular check up where nothing is touched. He does his best to avoid any sort of teeth-related meetings until the very last second, when it’s absolutely necessary.
Unfortunately, “the very last second” happens to be in the middle of a mission, when there’s no clean utensils and Novocain to knock him out. A molar has been bothering him to the point where he could barely handle brushing that side of his mouth (so he had avoided doing so for over a week now).
When Kix sees that Rex is having difficulty with his ration bar, he attempts to think back to the last time he saw Rex in the medbay for a non-concussion related checkup: over a month. Not wanting to startle the captain (who has taken to gently massaging his gums through his cheek), Kiz quietly pulls the necessary tools out of his medpac and calls on roughly six clones to gather around Rex (Jesse who felt like it was the right thing to do, Hardcase who just wanted to pin Rex because he could never do it on the mat, and four shinies who were a little too eager to “help out”).
With his eyes closed and all mental faculties focused on not screaming every time he hit his gum wrong, Rex doesn’t notice at first how quiet the camp has gotten or how still everything is until the back of his head feels a few degrees cooler. He opens his eyes to see a ground that is noticeably shadier than it was before. When he turns around, he sees a shiny standing above him; nervous, more than guilt-stricken, and with that same stupidly eager look on his face that all shinies sported.
“Can I help you?” Rex asks, more than a little annoyed.
The shinie only looks up uncertainly to the clone in front of Rex–Kix. “Sir, I wish I didn’t have to do this.”
Rex blinks. “Do what–” then he sees the four other clones, the drill and pliers in Kix’s hands, the way he’s crouched in front of him.
Rex almost bolts, trying and failing to escape before six armored bodies are crushing him into the dirt. Someone’s hand is in his mouth holding it open. Before anything even happens, Rex is screaming, screaming through the shiny’s hand and screaming even as Kix apologizes and says something like “I wish I didn’t have to do this, Captain”–then he’s absolutely shrieking in terror once the drill comes on and enters his mouth.
The whole thing doesn’t even take a minute, but Rex’s pain-filled shrieking and the tears in his eyes makes it horrible for everyone. When Kix uses the pliers to pull out half the tooth, Rex passes out.
When he wakes up again, his face is throbbing but there’s no pain– he can’t feel half his face. He wants to sit up but is’t sure he even knows how. When Rex is finally able to roll his head over and examine his surroundings, cool saliva runs over his face. Then, he remembers.
“Kith!” What the hell? Why can’t he talk? “Kith–wha…wha thith you thoo?!” He feels like an idiot because he’s obviously drooling all over himself and he can’t talk and he’s pretty sure the shinies are laughing at him (and that Hardcase is encouraging them to do so). “Kith, wha…?”
“Finally took care of that bothersome tooth, Captain.” He actually has the nerve to smile. “You’ll be feeling normal in no time.”
“Puck you, Kith!”
Kix chuckles. “Not in front of the shinies, sir.”
Rex lunges–or tries to–at Kix. It comes off as more of a lazy arm swing. “Immunna courth-marthal you, you thupid methic.”
Rex has half a mind to actually do it, too. At that moment, he doesn’t care that his tooth no long bothers him or that he’d be pain-free for probably the rest of his life; he wants to see Kix burn. “Imunna get you, methic…”