Heaven or Hell?

Yesterday, while curled up in a fetal position on the floor waiting for my body to stop screaming at me, I thought the worst was over.

Then Susan took me to the orchestra.

Their second “piece” was one of those chorus and orchestra combinations. This one by Poulenc. I suppose I’m just not smart enough to understand it. From my chair it sounded pretty much like 100 angry, despondent people shouting a hopeless, anguished diatribe. And no wonder they were upset. There was no melody to be found, only a string of strident, harsh notes accompanied by aimless harmony in search of forward movement but never leading anywhere. As if that wasn’t bad enough, it repeated over and over, stomping it’s musical feet demanding that the listener give in and just feel crappy to the bone. I have no idea what the text was, but it must have been something like, “LIFE SUCKS! YOU SUCK! LOOK AT ME!!!! YOU ONLY IMAGINE YOU ARE HAPPY!!! IT’S ALL AN ILLUSION!!!! LOOK AT ME!!!! YOU! IN THE FOURTH ROW, PAY ATTENTION!!!!! DON’T YOU KNOW THERE IS NO MEANING TO ANYTHING???!?!?!!? I HHHHAAATTTEEE EEEVVVEEEERRRRYYYYTHHHINNNNGGG!!!

Six movements.

I started to wish I was running again because that did suck but at least I was getting in shape.

But then, after intermission, they played Tchaikovsky’s Symphony Number 4, in F minor. Like a huge eraser, it wiped out all the ugly. In turns thrilling, beautiful, exciting, magnificent, I clung to every note with all I was worth. It was so beautiful that ever since it stopped the whole earth seems beautiful too.

The irony is that Tchaikovsky’s life sort of did suck. I suppose, in a way, our lives are like a concert to the people around us. We have a choice to make others feel like dieing or feel like living.