Stacy Horn

There are roses growing on Charles Street, right now, as I type.

Ah, this is perilously close to the edge.  Hard not to take advantage here.  It’s practically begging me to knock it over.

What?  Who me?  No, I wasn’t going to knock your laptop over.

Woohoo!! (Oh God, Infinite Jest is in the background.  I have that out to read, take no meaning from the fact that it is there!)

The business of knocking over and breaking things, and ripping up things, and killing little things is so tiring.  One must sit around and do nothing in order to regain one’s strength. There’s also the ever-important plotting part.  One must never neglect this task.  A well thought-out plot of evil today turns tomorrow’s knocked-over vase from something run of the mill into something genius, like a vase knocked over and onto the keyboard, while Stacy is holding a hot cup of coffee.

Not too long ago I posted about accidentally stumbling upon the Brahms Piano Concerto No. 2 and how gorgeous it was. Nicole said in the comments section that Brahms is underrated and it’s really true.

I didn’t pay attention to him myself until my choir did his Requiem, and then, of course, I was blown away. Now we’re doing something called Fest-und Gedenkspruche, Op. 109, and it’s just so beautiful.  I also love singing in German.  I think it’s all the v’s (which are reallly w’s) and z’s (which are s’s).

At one point during rehearsal last night our director asked if we liked it, and we said yes, and he said “Poor Brahms. Poor, poor Brahms.”  And he talked about Brahms being under-appreciated, and in his lifetime too. The woman sitting to my left started saying something about Clara, and I didn’t get a chance to ask her for more details, but I got the idea that Brahms loved and must have been unloved by someone named Clara.

Poor Brahms.  Well, I love you.