june 12, 2017 | 12:08am, 6m | traps

sleepy. considered not writing here. also feeling dirty. like, physically dirty. sweaty. tense. itchy. claustrophobic. anxious. irritable. summer in the city! tomorrow, presenting a second student recital. had a lovely day today with mom. we traveled through bed-stuy and looked at the apartment where f and i will likely move within the year. sharing brooklyn with her made me feel more excited about moving there than ever before. later, i turned pages for a loft concert in soho; music by lejaren hiller. what if bartok lived another 30 years? it might have sounded like this. whenever i hear other pianists play, particularly when they play chamber music, i feel like i don’t know to play the piano. really, the whole act seems altogether magical and astonishing, and the process of learning or practicing the work seems remote and foggy—actually impossbile. you wouldn’t think i’ve played for thirty years myself, and that i do this every day. sometimes even when i play, i’ll catch myself trying to figure it all out—how really does this all work?—but that part of the brain, the part that wants to lay traps for the truth, typically traps only me. 

too sleepy to shape this into anything meaningful.