You might not recognize this guy, but it’s the young Sergei Rachmaninoff. Russian composer and pianist extraordinaire.
The story goes that after the total failure of his first symphony, he ran off to Switzerland and underwent psychotherapy for 10 years. At the end of which his doctor asked, “Have you ever considered writing music that you’d like to hear?”
And thus was born (shortly thereafter) the beloved 2nd piano concerto.
Moral of the story: While I might be struggling trying to find an audience for my books, at least I know what I want to write.
And, looking back on my younger days, when I thought about how neat it would be to write music instead of prose, I’m all too aware of the miasma enveloping contemporary “serious” music. There’s no direction, no audience, and no real hope for a “breakthrough.” (You might say the same thing about the world of theoretical physics.)
So all I can say is:
THANK GOD I’M NOT A COMPOSER!
…


We don’t want this getting lost in the shuffle!
A recurring theme, in this blog, is doing what you think you should be doing. A la Rachmaninoff, or Samuel Beckett (or James Joyce, for that matter. Or even Ayn Rand’s Howard Roarke. Alas.)
Well, once again, it’s high-school finals week at our house. The seniors graduated last weekend, but for the rest of the kids…
Real simple. I don’t have time.
My wife mentioned to me, this morning, that today is the Ides of March. Or thereabouts. And it’s hard to think of the Ides of March without having the name Julius Caesar pop into your head.