Op. 82/N. 2 Prelude in E minor, movement 7, Allegro con forza e passione

Well it's a few days before the wedding, I'm excited really.

This blistering heat is being to kill me, I tell you. And this daunting sickness that plays the role of a teenage girl, in the sense of having ups and downs, is becoming bothersome - again, that of a teenage girl.

Everything is so stressful over here, really. Back yard weddings are hard.

Krysta is on a posting spree.
Sarah is returned.
Phil and Nikole are posting, but not so much Nikole.

The way the sun is setting tonight makes these summer trees look like they're covered in flames.

I thought the stress of the wedding would push me far apart from other people, and I'd take a lot of anger out on them, but surprisingly none of this has happened.

My mind is all over the place right now. Fuck the weather. But I know that, no matter what the temperature may be, there are still those fallen white board markers from the 19 + 8. They stay there, uncovered, hidden, but always ready when I need them. And when I do need them, they spring up with fire in their eyes, like one of Piazzolla's tango straight from 20th century Argentina.

That's thing about tangos, it's really interesting. Tangos encourage dissonance due to it's dark and enigmatic nature, but the baseline consists the same stable rhythm, whether that be dotted quarter note, eighth note, quarter note, quarter note, orrr, eighth note, quarter note, eighth note, quarter note, quarter note. Kind of like, the baseline, (such as the bassoon, yay us, phil!) is so detached to the rest of the piece, but so crucial. So the baseline might be somewhere distance, and far from the chaos of the melody, but without that baseline, the melody and inner voice leading would crumble like burnt toast. So all in all, the baseline is always there, and it doesn't matter how far the baseline is from the melody, the baseline will always keep everything together. No matter what, when, or where. Kind of like that rain on a hot night, or tea on a cold night. Or stars in the night sky, or a cool dry towel after a hot and steamy shower.

Yellow:
the sky,
is Orange.
you,
are Red.
Purple,
all over.
i won't
be Blue.