Songs without Words

“Dosienne, do you believe in the Outside?”
My twin sister gave her neighbor a small shove, trying to get a bit more breathing space – to no avail, of course. It was so crowded and we were so fat, so motionless, so lifeless. Like oversized spores with nowhere to land. Just here, chained to one another in this dense factory with no windows, no gardens, and no friends. The only world we knew; the only world we’d ever know. But I refused to believe that this was it. That this was the limit.
“The Outside? Of course I do! That’s where all the Barbarians come from, after all,” I said confidently.
“Well, I don’t believe in the Outside, Dosi. I don’t believe a word about it. I think the Barbarians are just pets of the Central Intelligence Organization that broke out of their playpens. No, actually, it’s a conspiracy against us! To strike a few of us down, make examples of us.”
“Oh, hush, sis, or you’ll get us killed!”
“Killed? Killed? I’d rather be sentenced to commit seppuku than make another blasted photocopy of nutritional propaganda to distribute.”
A voice came from a few blocks away. “Hey, shut up over there! We don’t need you blebbing your entrails everywhere, ya hear?”
“Mind your own business!” retorted Gosienne sharply. She had a knack for irritating people. Some said she was just expressing the wrong genes. Me, I think there was something else in her. A spark. A soul. An individual will. That’s why, annoying as she could be and dangerous as she always was, I stuck with her, supported her through all these years.
“We’re just trying to make some conversation here, geez,” I shouted with a groan.
“But listen, Dosi, listen! Don’t you ever wonder why one day we’re at war with the tall and skinny Barbarians, and the next day, the tall and skinny ones are peaceful coexisters and we’re fighting against the Barbarian Sphere-clusters? And then suddenly it’s the Automatons coming by! When will the wars ever stop? Why is everyone out to kill us? It’s a conspiracy, I say!”
“We fight to protect our Motherland,” I said quickly. “That’s all. It’s so warm and beautiful, with bountiful food and tropical weather every day.”
“Yes, every day, the same the same. The Barbarians must think it’s so nice in here, ‘cause it looks pretty from the outside. But I bet if they stayed for more than a year, they’d be sick and tired of it, too!”
“Oh? And give an example of what you don’t have? Food? Shelter? Mail service? Me?”
“Sex. Sunlight. Open seas. The beach! Fresh air. Fresh water! And did I mention sex?”

* to be continued one day *

I decided to lift my years-long ban on writing “sonnets.”

This sonnet is a 7/7 sonnet (14-syllable lines with no meter, but divided always into 7 and 7). The rhyme scheme (abba cddc effe gg) is easier than last time, but the catch is that a and b, c and d, and e and f have to sound highly similar. Additionally, the rhyme must, if the word is over one syllable, extend one letter beyond that syllable (ie, kettle and mettle rhyme, but not kettle and battle), and if the word is one syllable, the entire syllable must be rhymed. As a result, there are some funky words in here :). I was kind of screwed the moment I typed “keys.” But whatever! Read and enjoy, critique or whatever =P.

Shadow’s Pianist

The shadow of your fingers, cast over the Piano keys,
In the midst of pallid Night – gray walls and gray tapestries,
You deign to touch – no sound made! (terror of Night’s Ministries)
Do not quiver, do not fret; fingers savage as monkeys.

You are wizard of the room; toes itch to press the pedal,
Take a deep breath with eyes closed; imagine spectral petals,
Wavering in resonance, diplomacy like nettles,
Emotions clashing throughout, as reason daren’t meddle.

Before the Song is Silence – the Daughter drowns the Father,
Sound is tragic comedy, elusively moving hither,
Then bang! ring! ripping through air – pull of bow, strum of zither!
Resistance falls to its knees: the air won’t even bother … .

Songstress cloaked in tendrils’ shroud, your tips rain down as dancers,
My heart screams forth with questions – and melodies … for answers … .

Man, I’ve been strangely uncoordinated lately.  I hope this is just a passing anomaly … .

Yesterday, I crashed into the lab’s front door because my left hand failed to turn the handle but my legs kept following the path I had pre-planned in my mind.  It was lightly painful, but mostly embarrassing.  Fortunately, no one was around to see it (I hope).

Today, I was reaching down to unplug my laptop cable and – get this – my *eye* freaking crashed into a corner of my laptop cooling pad on the counter.  (Don’t worry – my eye’s okay.)  Geez, what’s up with that?!

Ignore me.
Someone stole my cushion,
So my butt hurts.

The ringing in my ears makes me numb
But I want to pretend that the pain
(In my rear)
Is all that troubles my heart.

* * *

Hmm, just a little experiment in my ‘test tube’ ;).  Not actually reflective of how I feel, btw.

Today, James and I gave Sukant a crash course in genetics as preparation for his journal club presentation tomorrow.  During this “course,” James was explaining how we know certain genes (e.g. p53) are essential:

“We know certain genes are essential when the test animals die with the gene knocked out.  Think about how we know if a file is essential for your computer – if you delete ‘autoexec.bat,’ you notice that your computer doesn’t boot up anymore.  It’s an essential file.  However, if you delete ‘Shakira – Hips Don’t Lie.mp3,’ your computer runs just fine.  It’s not an essential file.  Genes are the same way.”

=)

To wind down after a long day at lab, I hopped onto crunchyroll (which is honestly one of my favorite websites right now =P) and clicked on a random video on a whim.  I think there was a screenshot of a cute girl or something (predictable?  Ahahha).  The show turned out to be the live-action adaptation of Tantei Gakuen (Detective Academy) Q, and while the opening clip seemed a bit too scary for this hour of night, I found out from the comments that there was an anime adaptation of the same name.  I searched in WK but it turned out, after more searching, that it is listed only under its English name.  Based on the images from ANN, it seemed to be somewhat of a kids’ show, but the “Detective” part had me intrigued.  While it’s certainly not a perfect show (the dialogue isn’t always smooth), it’s pretty entertaining and the cases thus far have been quite enticing and complex already.  While I love Ghost Hunt, I prefer more logical detective stories (vs. supernatural) because I get to think along with the characters (btw, they’re mostly guys).

Sigh, I’ve tried writing mysteries before, but it’s really really hard.  You have to be able to think like a criminal before you can think like a detective =).

I came up with an idea for the bulk of the “B” section of my new piece, and I scribbled it down on a napkin while eating dinner at the Cambridge Grill.  It is based very loosely on the intro of the piece, which is exploratory, thin, and somewhat haunting.

The overall structure of the piece is ternary: intro-A-B-A, with the durations being about 1′, 2′, 2′, 2′ and the keys being (not defined), E, a, E.  While the E major sections are very set in ordinary chord progressions, the other two sections are much more adventurous.

Anyway, that probably sounded very dry, but I’m in lab mode right now ..

“Why are you glistening like that?”

A peach isn’t a golden vegetable like the pale rust on a sullen piece of wood. When angeldust splatters down on the fruit specimen, it shivers.

“The leak in the plumbing will be fixed …”

An ice crystal is a hearty blade; its melted counterpart is a hearty soup.

“… eventually … .”

I have to admit, I want to hold it, round and all, in my palm – cup it gently and make a small dent in it by squeezing.  There’s a small ant-worm like the luscious pressure on a landing pad.

“Would you quit jumping up and down?  You’re breaking it.”

That’s the sound of a hearty blade slicing into a sofa of temptation.

My senses are piqued; my ears are falling off.

“Hang in there.  It’ll only hurt a little bit, and afterwards, you’ll be so beautiful, like your mother.”

You have a mother, don’t you?  Even a lone blushing peach has a mother.  When you spread your wings (finally), you’ll understand what I mean.  My toes are dipping into the water because they slipped off the lily pad, and they’re descending like your tears into the liquid with a plip.  And echoes of ripples.  With the wag of a motor, your hand slides down the trunk of the berry tree.  I want you to touch me like that.

“You’re not supposed to look.  I said that the plumber will be here … .”

“… eventually?”

“Yeah, eventually.”

I’ve started a sort of informal tradition of reading one existentialist play a day.  I think it’s a good thing!

Anyway, today I’m reading No Exit (Jean-Paul Sartre), and honestly it’s one of the most amazing pieces of literature I’ve ever set my eyes upon.  The plot grinds forward with brutal words, yet the effect is so subtle, the conclusion slipping under the currents, that it’s only as the noise reaches critical mass that you suddenly realize what has happened.  Mmmm …~

Greatest quote from lab …

Sukant: “I know tomorrow is Independence Day, but independence from what??”

Ahaha.  I think the easiest way to tell that I was born in this country is the importance I place on the holiday as more than a day off from work.  I can proudly sing all of the songs in the sing-along, too ^__^.

I always wonder about the use of the 1812 Overture, though.  Did you know that the tune blaring out below the final fanfare is “God Save the Tzar?”  I find also find it ironic that the US’s ally in the Revolutionary War, France, is portrayed as being defeated in this piece.  I guess it’s good that most people don’t know or care what the song is about?