11.5

Time to face the music.
Not figuratively.



Listening to Music class: my least favorite of my favorite classes. I mean, I couldn't pass up a class with a description like "Listen to music. Determine things about said music. Get grade. Congrats. Graduate. Live life." I'm generalizing, but that hardly matters. The point is that Listening to Music was like walking for cakes: silly, fun, and everybody wins. We started with really old music. I'm sure I have the name of it in my notes, but really seriously who cares? It's all classical music anyway. The teacher even said so.
"All this music? Can be classified vaguely as 'classical' music. It is not, of course, all a part of the 'Classical' period, but the term can be used to classify a large assortment of music, all of which occurred after the general development of a world cultural awareness, and before the modern day."
So sayeth my notes. And my notes never lie. Because I take impeccable notes. Really. I even take notes on things that aren't a part of class.
For example: on the day we covered

Tallis: I have discovered an interesting new way of chewing the ends off of my pencils. If I rotate the pencil in my teeth counter clockwise, rather than my customary clockwise, the pencil takes at least twice as long to disintegrate. This could be because of my relative inexperience with the particulars of directional chewing, or it could be because the wood grain is driven that direction more strongly, or because my teeth aren't as chompy that way. Will update.
Three girls in the front row are angry because they got Bs on a test. They haven't shown up to half the classes. I assumed they were lucky to be passing at all. They are going to yell at the teacher. It's not very cool. However, it may raise my grade, so I'm not stopping them. I think their names are Candy, Trixi, and Tawny. If those aren't their names, it's what I've been calling them for the last month. They seem the sort of girls who are silently judged from the back of classrooms, so I'm just joining in with the crowd, really. If I ever get any actual factual information, I'll be sure to act surprised at their shocking behavior.

Purcell: English composers are the shizz. In addition to this, English people have got amazing sense for how to go completely overboard with a wig. Love this guy.
The whole class was docked five points today because the teacher asked a question and literally nobody responded. I assume it's because the question was "What does this music mean" and seriously there are no words at all, dude. It's kind of difficult to ascertain meaning from a meaningless series of notes. Hecks to the no.
I'm determined to never speak up if the professor docks me all the points, all the time. I'll just leave and never come back. I don't need your wigs. I have wig fixes elsewhere.

Bach: Apparently, this man was reading Lovecraft at midnight or something. His melodies are nightmarish and hateful. I would never ever want to be a flutist in the Baroque period, and that's a fact.
The teacher asked a question in class again, of the same sort as last time. "What does this music mean?" Really. This time, a guy to my left spoke up. Thank God. I like having my grade. He said something along the right lines, and the teacher really lit up. I mean, his whole face like a roman candle in the middle of a cave that hasn't seen light for centuries. Poor guy. He must hate his job.

Mozart: was tremendously young. I mean, younger than me, and I'm young (compared to old people, who are old). On an interesting side note, the Guy Who Speaks In Class was there again today to save all our grades. He mentioned words like counterpoint and melodic interplay and other things I didn't understand. The teacher responded with that same incredible enthusiasm. I don't know where the man gets it. It's like he's a deflated weather balloon, and this kid says one intelligent thing and the man just shoop and tada he's back, baby. Crazy.
Tawny asked everyone to pray for her because she's pregnant. Why is it that the religious girls get preggers more often than the rest of everyone? I'm thinking it's because they don't believe they'll ever give in and have sex, so they just don't carry protection. I'm going to start a company that sells condoms with crosses on them or ones that taste like vegan cheese or whatever the hell these girls like to put in their purses, so they just stop bringing babies into the world. Unless, of course, she still tells her daddy that she's a virgin, which is a perfect opportunity for immaculate conception jokes. Gosh, Tawny is just a landmine waiting to be blown up into perfect comedic gold.

Beethoven: Guy Who Speaks In Class was sick today or something. We all lost five points. I thought about raising my hand and saying "The counterpoint represents different points of view, but I didn't know if there was any counterpoint. I don't know what counterpoint is. We need that guy back.

Quilter: If last names were descriptive, old ladies would all become Edna Quilter and Marrianne Quilter and Georgia Quilter and it would become increasingly more difficult to get personalized license plates in Florida.
Tawny announced it was a false start and she just got her period late. Is anyone surprised? I know I am.
The classroom smells like old meat today.
Scarves. Seriously, who decided scarves were indoors attire? From where I'm sitting right now, I can see twelve scarves (and three parkas, but that's a different story entirely). These people do not have chilly throats. There's a guy in the back who always complains of being too hot. He sweats. There's no way one human being can be sweating in the same room as so many scarves. It doesn't seem right. I feel badly for the guy in the back who sweats. I wish I knew his name so I could write it somewhere meaningful. Find a piece of chalk and write "--------- sweats while twelve people wear scarves." I'll write it somewhere people will see it. On a sidewalk on the quad? Underneath an ad for starving children? In my notes? Notes are good, but nobody sees them. Not even me.

Stravinsky: If it weren't for the Guy Who Talks In Class, we would all be failing by now. He has saved us so many times by talking about the emotion of the music and the feel of the piece and the intention of the composer. I get the feeling that we're all somewhat amazed that he's able to continue Bee Essing as gracefully as he has, but our amazement doesn't move us to compassion. I know that for my part I'm as lost as a human being can be without actually being mentally confused at the SAME TIME as being directionless in the middle of the woods. If I were to say anything in this class, it would be "Excuse me? Can you turn down the thermostat? The guy in the back is sweating and I can hear it from here and it's distracting me.
Guy Who Talks In Class is surprisingly eloquent, though. I get the feeling like he isn't really Bee Essing and instead he means what he says about emotion and fear and love and hate and intentions in the music and how the notes align so perfectly with the text. I get the feeling like he's really some kind of emotionally aware guy (an oxymoron? perhaps. only time will tell) who is in this class, not for the grade, but for the opportunity to distinguish violas from violins as often as he possibly can. He seems to be doing pretty well so far, so I nor anybody is willing to try to stop him.

Corgiliano: I'm completely losing my mind here. I can't breathe because Candy has just announced to the class that she thinks she's pregnant (and would people please pray?). Trixi can't stop crying for her, but Tawny just looks at her with knowledge in her wise, wise, idiot eyes. I wish I knew their actual names so I could look them up and show their faces to Rosalyn. She would appreciate the stupidity. P.S. I totally called it.
Guy Who Talks In Class had a twenty minute argument with the professor today about the relative usefulness of modern music. He was trying to admit the Beatles or the Who or the Rolling Stones or Michael Jackson as possible sources for the last few weeks of class. I feel like we're all benefitting from paying these two to continue a dialogue. His points were few, but strident and well-argued. The counters from the professor were emotional appeals to the quality of the work and the motivations of the lyricists. He finally caved when Guy Who Talks In Class pointed out the incongruity of studying Tchaikovsky and his drug use and then throwing modern music out for its also drug use. I feel like this guy is a winner.
The professor is getting really quiet. Holy crap, is this the end of Listening to Music? Are we going to have to scrape him off the walls when he blows up with anger? No?
He's just thinking, I guess. Disappointing.
Oh, holy crap! He caved! He really caved! We get to vote on what we listen to of the modern era! Guy Who Talks In Class is amazing.
We're voting
This is hilarious
Trixi wants the Backstreet Boys
haha no
Holy crap, this just in
His Indian name may be abandoned formally
Guy Who Talks In Class
is
Marco