piano sarpedon Chopin Op. 53, Polonaise in Ab Major Raw emotional release. Bashing out that initial note in four octaves, and climbing, climbing, for that beautiful refrain. Then the higher refrain! Three note power chords in my right hand, flying past those sixteenth notes. My left hand bouncing back and forth among the bass octaves. Softly at first, as I first get acquainted with your strings. Then we get to that first verse with a bang, and suddenly soft! Nice rhythm to keep in beat. Effortlessness, in knowing the next notes to play. Knowing exactly where those fingers ought to be. And yet sometimes my fingers might be too slow at arriving, but I try to ignore that. Dreaming. Dreaming about who I would love to play for, thinking about what I might want to work on next. Dreaming about the day when this piece slides off my finger tips the way I always wanted it to. Back to that refrain, but with renewed enthusiasm. The listeners saw it coming back quite easily this time, next time they may not be so lucky. And now that second verse. My left hand is in a frenzy, it simply cannot stop hammering out that repeating staccato of sixteenth octaves. 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4. Over and over. That's all I watch. Making sure the thumb and it's alternating ring and pinkie finger friends do not miss their targets. My right hand plays the melody on its own, hitting keys in twos and threes. After a loud flourish it repeats. But the second time comes around, and I let my mind relax, but my fingers begin their delicate work. Right hand with a single voice melody, leading the whole operation. My left hand plays the background music, softly putting the bass line in place. Without it I'm afraid my right hand might get lost. But every so often it does it's loud, bassy F, which I always loved to hear on recordings. But this cannot last forever, and the two hands lock into synchronized movement, getting lower and lower down the keyboard, all the while on crescendo mode. But finally I reach that low C, and I pop back out with the refrain, with even more enthusiasm. The ending is pure elation. My hands are firing down at the keys, I know no limit, and my arms withhold their tiring thoughts. That right hand fires off those three note power chords, as both hands end at opposite sides of the keyboard. Not done yet! Eight chords to go. Da da dum dum dum - dum - dum -- dum! And I finish that round of action, slightly under ten minutes. So I retire to eat lunch, and get on with my monotonous work, not to return until the next day. 020104 ... nom the piano is back, sounds so good 051111 ... raze for most of my life, i didn't think i needed an acoustic piano. i was content with digital approximations that never needed any upkeep. i've spent a little over four years with my yamaha U1 now, and i'm not sure how i ever did without it. so much complexity lives inside that sound. it feels alive. organic. it gives me back as much as i put into it. i still can't believe how rich and resonant the thing is. sometimes i just let thick chords hang there in the air and listen to them as they sustain and slowly fade away. every digital piano on the face of the planet now seems pretty lifeless and one-dimensional in comparison. 130112 ... log burning fire kathy plays. i love to hang out in the room and listen while i write or read or draw. i tinker, but have no idea what i'm doing. except for the occasional time my fingers abstractly make a beautiful simple sound. somehow that's good enough for me. 130113 ... raze it doesn't matter what's going on in or outside of my head. sitting down at the black_and_white beast always feels like coming home. 220818 ... raze i can't remember the last time i just let myself get lost in the music for a while. it felt good to do that. 220930 what's it to you? who go blather from