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| FUCK YOU, UNIVERSITY OF MISSOURI ST. LOUIS!So, I somewhat assumed that I would be getting my diploma (also known as toilet paper) in the mail right about now. Well, I did get something. It was a letter stating that not only did I not have the math requirement, I also didn't have the science requirement. Now, I get this wond'rous letter from the whomever sends out that shit, stating that if I'd tried to even go to the ceremony, my name wouldn't have been called, because of said lack of credits. Of course, here's the problem. There was no way in the holy fuck that I could've even gotten my foot in the door (or the damn scholarship!) unless I'd had all of those requirements! I even sent them my transcript from the junior college, and then, apparently, everything was fine. Now, not so fine. It's not that I don't care, 'cause I don't--I've got the credits, and the fact that I had to take fucking college algebra twice--and would've failed twice, if the professor wasn't such a fan of Debussy's Images, which I played for my recital. At least one good thing came out of taking that fucking class twice--it taught me that sometimes, there's shit in college that you really don't need to take if you're a music performance major. College algebra is DEFINITELY one of those classes. My poor piano teacher was always telling me to wait for the "Math for Music and Art Dummies" course, but while it always showed up in the catalogs, it never had enough people enrolled, so I and the rest of my fellow Humanities dummies took the "dummy" college algebra course. The only change? They took out 2 whole chapters! Same speed--a section per class session, assloads of homework, and constant time either in the math lab or with a tutor. I swear, I had to be the only person who both tutored (music), and needed tutoring (math). But all I've got to do is show them that yep, I took those classes in 1997, 1998, and 2002. The algebra was the very last class I took, and every day, my poor professor just shook his head while I pulled my hair out trying to at least get a C. "We didn't have to take all that stuff when I went to Juilliard," he'd say. And since he was preparing me for, well, not Juilliard, but a decent conservatory, he saw no reason why I should even have to be bothered with that shit. And he was right--I shouldn't have been, because it took time from my recital preparation. But that's water under the bridge, and now, all I have to do is take my unofficial transcripts up to said university and stick them in their faces. Stupid ass school. | | |
| Insert Michael Jackson joke in poor taste here....So, either the Gloved One is dead, close to it, or something--I can't believe that the first thing out of my mouth was "I wonder whether my records will go up in value?" Course, I could listen to them IF I HAD A GODDAMNED MOTHERFUCKING TURNTABLE, but that's neither here nor there. I even had a damn poster of the guy in my room. Me! (Of course, this was only because I couldn't get my hands on a Colin Blunstone/Zombies/Argent poster).
All that talent, and dude was as crazy as his former father in law (Elvis). It's just rather sad. | | |
| A day late, as per usual.....
On 24 June 1945, one of the most wond'rous voices was born, a Colin Blunstone. Why he is so appealing, I don't know. He sings "incorrectly" (i.e. breathy), but I love his voice anyway. Unfortunately, he's never gotten the acclaim that he should. Meh. Anyhoo, here's two examples of the gloriousness of his voice. The "Going to a Go-Go" is a little rough, but it's funny for nostalgia's sake. Then again, the one from the 80's could be seen as nostalgia, too--gotta love those 1980's fashions! One of these days, I'm going to see the fellows, even if I have to travel out of my comfort zone. (Edited: For some reason, I had two of the same video up there....damn YouTube and their weird embedding methods!) Also, I've been a day off with all my rememberances! I mean, c'mon! If I can't remember the day a fucking comedy God as Moe Howard was born, chances are that I'd forget the birth of a man who I think sounds like God would (if He could sing.) | | |
| It was only 32+ years old! It's still good! It's still good!
26 November 1976-14 June 2009 können Sie im Frieden stillstehen.... On a cold November day, Black Friday 1976 to be exact, my father stood on line at a CMC store (yeah, any of you St. Louisans of a certain age will know what I'm talking about) to get first crack at a new kickass Technics turntable. The regular price was $150, which in 1976 dollars was...$150, but for some reason, the store was selling them for about an hour at $80! Now, there are many things that I've forgotten: people's names, their faces, who that girl was who just came in here and knew MY name from high school but I had no idea who she was--but I'll be damned if I don't remember when my father came home with that bad boy featured above. Yep--a toddler watched fascinated as he hooked it up to the Marantz receiver and music poured out of the AR speakers. Thus began my love for the vinyl that will never, never end! Okay, it hasn't ended, but it's been stopped for a while. My mother decided that waiting for us to fix the turntable was akin to hell freezing over, so she brought it upstairs, plopped it on the kitchen table, and began to start a'unscrewing. The verdict? The thing was just plain worn out--and rightly so. I mean, it was VERY heavily used--at least every day, and on the weekends? There wasn't a Saturday night that went by without me staying up until 5 or 6 in the morning listening to records. But dammit, I still bitched that we hadn't gotten our $80 worth yet! Too bad there's no way that I can get a similar turntable for under $200. The good folks at Technics have been smoking the crack, and I'll be fucked if all their TTs are for DJs, and cost 'round $600! The hell?! But I've got to get a good brand, 'cause I'm jonesing for some Argent, Rachmaninoff and Dutilleux right now. And even if I did find a Technics turntable, what are the odds that it'd have that cool, kickass stroboscope?! | | |
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