tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38875502012-02-14T15:15:34.267-05:00Inspired simultaneously and erratically by the blog thoughts of both Stanley Lee and Ned Rorem.Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.comBlogger6021100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-6154202519313702412012-02-07T22:30:00.009-05:002012-02-08T00:11:24.947-05:00

Beauty. Beauty is everywhere. In the starry romantic prayers of an insane Schumann, setting songs from writers whose initials abbreviate palindromically or sound like the decrepit green bottles of a Korean liquor that washed away our 20s into an alcoholic lake of noraebang frenzies and bright K-Town lights. In the mean Asian curves of the new NSX and its postmodern comeback to howl into the

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-68945620410120833872012-01-25T14:33:00.005-05:002012-01-26T16:24:08.612-05:00

2012. Another long dry spell for the blog. What's been going on? I turned 30 and this blog will soon celebrate its 10-year birthday; when I started it, I couldn't legally drink. Atlantic Music Festival was fun. Will start second home there. Met Ethan Hawke and I was like all "whoa no way!" and then I was all "way."I have nothing to say, mainly because I have nothing to feel. Eternal mind of the

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-87479644800411211352011-08-16T16:25:00.001-04:002011-08-16T16:25:54.562-04:00

Generally, if you wait long enough, confusion will turn into apathy.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-993014476727715662011-04-15T23:42:00.001-04:002011-04-15T23:43:24.044-04:00

Last day in Seoul.This could have gone better.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-23654595743163385512011-04-07T15:43:00.001-04:002011-04-07T15:43:20.548-04:00

Michael Jackson once turned an antonym into its own synonym, and it was bad (bad, as in good). These days, the word "epic" has, in effect, come to mean "trivial." That's bad, as in bad.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-41569181339583595502011-04-07T14:08:00.001-04:002011-04-07T14:10:05.893-04:00

The Montreal Questionaire. On the eve of my departure for Korea. Hello again, 2008?To better introduce yourself (Be creative!)(Answer in a few short lines):1. How old were you when you started to play? What led you to choose music? I was about seven years old when I started playing piano, though far from seriously – most of my childhood was dominated by a somewhat “normal” upbringing per se;

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-18299419954126271152011-03-22T04:09:00.000-04:002011-03-22T04:11:13.845-04:00

Facing the night.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-80321817653682365792011-03-20T16:41:00.000-04:002011-03-20T16:42:16.900-04:00

Lost.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-53131900194630064312011-03-10T16:45:00.002-05:002011-03-10T16:48:27.263-05:00

Insert faux-emotional, pseudo-wise-but-garbage, wannabe-deep statement regarding "love/life" here. Then vomit.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-74992194234336475072011-02-20T14:01:00.003-05:002011-02-20T14:05:16.075-05:00

"Now I know we said things did things that we didn't mean and we fall back into the same patterns same routines but your temper's just as bad as mine is you're the same as me but when it comes to love you're just as blinded baby please come back it wasn't you baby it was me maybe our relationship isn't as crazy as it seems maybe that's what happens when a tornado meets a volcano all I know is I

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-72596467870079212412011-02-19T01:23:00.004-05:002011-02-19T03:09:19.565-05:00

Self-sovereignty attaches to it the imprisonment of emotional chaos; how can that logical former possibly overcome the naked potency of that all-destructive latter; as if the concept of choice were at all inextricable from that of the pitiful reliance on emotional necessity. Need. Want. Must. Have?Detachment forces itself to engender artificial facades. Wait, isn't that redundant. Wait. What?I

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-53072593925734891682011-02-19T00:49:00.001-05:002011-02-19T00:49:53.854-05:00

Looking for hope. Desperately.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-72794452052439519232011-02-13T18:21:00.002-05:002011-02-13T18:50:57.228-05:00

Valentine's Day. Artists wade into the ocean of poetry and painting, assumedly searching for self-connection to those thick brush strokes; or those words scattered on a page. But art, at heart, is a lie. Why not use pop song lyrics?Eminem wails away, but what really happens when a tornado meets a volcano?Imagination and the self-pity of late night thought paralyzes sleep; like a clown, I put on a

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-72381773307953701392011-02-07T18:57:00.000-05:002011-02-07T18:58:55.576-05:00

Nobody knows it but me. The Tony Rich Project.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-74081227614077272952011-02-05T04:37:00.001-05:002011-02-05T04:37:41.855-05:00

Notes from the Underground. Truth.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-9702553081769310222011-01-31T13:50:00.002-05:002011-01-31T14:09:18.022-05:00

Isolation, sunrises, and Schubert. The snow tips of the steel bars rain down on the Metropolitan Opera plaza; the Chagalls fight each other - who is prettier? Nobody cares, the fountains are dancing and the Phil is playing. Iphones are ubiquitous. I swim, sweat, then drown into those helium harmonies of 960. Ginsberg says about New York City in 1960, "three men sprawl drunk in the birch thicket

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-40756848298437560362011-01-29T15:20:00.003-05:002011-01-29T15:28:43.243-05:00

Soaked knee-deep in the crystalline mud of more snow than an abandoned Polish perogi; time to man up. Not having a phone = higher probability of serendipity. Or isolation.RIP Milton Babbitt. I care. I listen.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-60420887703673885412011-01-25T13:27:00.001-05:002011-01-25T13:27:48.693-05:00

Back to the sweat-filled confines of the YMCA; steams enshrouds the air and that brownish rust glossing the metal lockers distracts enough from the air-drying revitalization of a miniscule sauna, a vague reminder of an era not too long ago. Schubert, be flat. When you were my age, you were about to die soon. But Pergolesi had already been dead for three years.Mallarmé says “I am alone, while all

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-53645726924841126722011-01-23T15:43:00.002-05:002011-01-23T15:54:02.320-05:00

Rest in peace, Mr. Stessin. You once meant a lot to me.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-36874048160345823182011-01-22T04:00:00.000-05:002011-01-22T04:01:30.206-05:00

"I'd catch a grenade for 'ya /Put my hand on the blade for 'ya"

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-85080657436779419522011-01-17T11:01:00.003-05:002011-01-17T11:07:48.686-05:00

"To resist the resistance, to make peace with this score on its own terms, may not be possible in our time. It would signal recovery of an optimism that our century's wars, upheavals, atrocities, and holocausts - and the despairing attendant cynicism that has from the beginning undergirded the modern movement - may have precluded once and for all. Yet the fact that we continue to insult and

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-841724111119133432010-12-28T13:11:00.003-05:002012-01-26T16:25:35.908-05:00

2010 in retrospect.Oh, that torturous dichotomy between the visceral and surreal, that vast chasm where music and dreams lie, where the impalpable drowns into pitiful thought. What happened this year? An earthquake demolished the entire country of Haiti and the United States took one step closer to choosing a psychotic woman to run for president. David Soyer died. Jacob Lateiner died. Spain won

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-15236282847882153222010-12-26T03:55:00.003-05:002010-12-28T13:16:10.075-05:00

American Airlines: "Would you prefer a window seat or an aisle seat, sir?"Me: "Window, please."American Airlines: "Window is not available."Me: "Um, ok. Then aisle?"American Airlines: "Actually, aisle is not available either."Me: "Then why did you ask me what I prefer?"

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-17078888614764252142010-12-17T04:28:00.003-05:002010-12-17T04:29:42.524-05:00

Tour, day 45. Eve of departure. I think I've been tourstitutionalized. No desire to return to reality and face the questions and talking. I received an apology from the Cheyenne YMCA this afternoon. Carlos = 1, YMCA = 0.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-77686302534609951912010-12-16T05:32:00.004-05:002010-12-28T13:17:08.163-05:00

Cheyenne, WY. One would think that it would be difficult to be permanently banned from the Wyoming YMCA in just one day, but it's not. My response to the ban:[To whom it may concern, The following is intended to be not only a letter of complaint, but a higher question regarding values, ignorance, and etiquette. Ordinarily, I would ask to file a formal complaint regarding Marge, your employee who

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-24483426661380762482010-12-14T16:08:00.002-05:002010-12-14T16:40:02.175-05:00

Jacob Lateiner: again.Mr. Lateiner died today and I found out 15 minutes ago from the New York Times. A few years ago, I wrote a sordidly emo entry regarding Mr. Lateiner and my (perhaps ridiculous, at the time) visceral apprehension at what I thought to be some sort of inevitable transfiguration into his life - as if the Marlboro Lights and single-malt scotch would end up representing a

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-53659440680119772412010-12-02T00:02:00.002-05:002010-12-02T00:07:47.501-05:00

Sheldon, IA. Losing my mind.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-39567146458760260912010-11-27T02:39:00.003-05:002010-11-27T05:18:02.152-05:00

Divorce. Move over, marriage, I guess. The new post-modern phenomenon of under-30-and-educated divorce is sweeping over the cliché phrase "everyone is getting married" like a 21st century cultural tidal wave. I'm 29; I know four people my age already divorced. Is this normal? Examination and analysis. All four are Asian-American (though, of course, the people I know are predominantly

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-78027222157631573112010-11-26T23:02:00.003-05:002010-11-26T23:11:07.812-05:00

Tour - halftime in Minneapolis. Kristina Reiko Cooper, who recently embarked on an identical mid-America tour to ours, was recently quoted in "All Things Strings" as saying: “Being on the road can be pretty lonely. You perform, you get all the adrenaline running, you get on a high, and then you have to go back to an empty hotel room, with nothing to do but watch Law and Order."Perhaps. I spent

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-19557838550120718792010-11-13T01:23:00.003-05:002010-11-13T01:32:06.561-05:00

Rock Springs, WY. Concert tours magnify my human tendency to realize satisfaction in the small things; nothing cries awesome better than a hot tub and a solid wi-fi connection, though the ingrained bi-coastal snobbery rooted in my genetic makeup can't help but find an equal amount of enjoyment in tattoed middle-aged hillbillies with names like Starla or Ginger. Tours are therapeutic in so much as

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-62214224993325337572010-11-07T10:50:00.003-05:002010-11-26T23:18:38.253-05:00

Thief River Falls, MN.The simplicity of the rural midwest wreaks of small tales of urban escape; broken down signs next to rusty tractors, the excitement of deer season, christmas carols at expansively large high schools and the like. On the whole, the Norwegian contingent screams native with the majority, but I sense a general bliss in the ignorance of city affairs. Leonard Bernstein wrote "On

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-55271134012580937602010-11-04T01:37:00.003-04:002010-11-26T23:15:53.017-05:00

According to a new study conducted by the New York Magazine in an article entitled "Is Urban Loneliness a Myth?", 50.7% of the population of New York City are single-individual households. In Manhattan, 57% of those single-individuals are women as opposed to Brooklyn, where it is only 29.5%. Mark Twain once said, "the coldest winter I ever spent was summer in San Francisco." But the heat wave in

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-23343832605422513602010-11-03T23:30:00.000-04:002010-11-03T23:31:23.342-04:00

Day 1 of the 45-day long mid-west tour. Minneapolis, MN. Begin.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-27580472940055289222010-08-18T17:00:00.002-04:002010-08-18T17:10:08.813-04:00

Los Angeles and Las Vegas. We partied yesterday for the hell of it; now we party to stay relevant.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-73467573851623563152010-08-10T19:17:00.002-04:002010-08-10T19:18:13.844-04:00

If I could live any person's life in history, it would be that of Leonard Bernstein. In writing previous statement, just realized how gay that may have come across. Addendum: it would be that of Leonard Bernstein, but minus the gay sex.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-71860710693549348242010-08-10T03:26:00.002-04:002010-08-10T03:51:16.454-04:00

Favorite cheap domestic meals; out-of-the-country meals don't count since they are (rarely) any help to you and serve you no purpose but to drool. In no particular order.Hobee's: Sonoma Browns. Hashbrowns topped with grilled chicken breast strips, diced tomatoes, cheese and Classic Basil pesto sauce. ($7.95)La Taqueria: Chicken Quesadilla with avocado, fresh melted mozzarella cheese, and sour

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-17005703482077585982010-08-09T04:57:00.001-04:002010-08-09T04:58:58.319-04:00

Palo Alto. Currently drinking a scotch nobody would ever drink with me, watching a movie nobody would ever watch with me. The beauties of being home alone. Red label + Best of the Best 2.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-6071913814064552202010-08-02T17:47:00.002-04:002010-08-02T17:59:09.149-04:00

Banff. If the absence of blog entries is at all indicative of my summer, suffice it to say that I haven't had such an amazing summer, possibly in my entire life. Thrown from the bright-colored vitality of Seoul directly into the snow-covered mountains of Banff, the hills here are undoubtedly alive, and with the sound of music at that.John Perry says that music "really isn't so difficult," - a

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-86066554429503270322010-07-14T22:05:00.002-04:002010-07-14T22:07:46.768-04:00

I wonder if the concept of hypocrisy and the act of being entirely judgmental must necessarily coexist simultaneously.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-70770634789475033542010-07-12T22:25:00.003-04:002010-07-12T22:36:14.997-04:00

Haters. We all know haters; their presence is so irritatingly ubiquitous that the minor jab begins to feel like the inflamed sting from a radioactive insect. Take weight-loss for example. One who decides to change his/her lifestyle to get in shape, eat healthy, and workout will inevitably and undoubtedly always take shit from haters - fat haters, more often than not. If you decide to lose weight,

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-19163049723121785702010-07-09T13:44:00.003-04:002010-07-09T14:06:53.971-04:00

Post-tour. Feverishly attempting now to snap back to the reality of normality; Korea has an uncanny ability to delude a classical musician into the phantasmagorical deception that we are cooler than we actually think. Alas, such is but a cultural fairy tale. Naju. Like the sewer-smelling equivalent of an infrastructurally-absent suburb in Detroit. I learned today what agglutination is - but does

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-51602453756307029522010-06-07T08:53:00.002-04:002010-06-07T09:07:41.854-04:00

Korea Tour. I've changed, but Korea hasn't. What's new this time? Attribute the pessimistic cynicism of cultural observation last time to the clinical depression brought on by alcoholism and chaos - maybe I was too busy to find the beauty of this country I see nightly on borderline-homoerotic night walks with Jay down the main river of Jinju. I'm in Changwon now, where the unabashed cheese of

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-86633615822015643712010-05-24T10:54:00.002-04:002010-05-24T11:02:33.705-04:00

I graduated. How do I feel?"The Bacchic non-Euclidian ecstasy of liberation is proof that the paramount artistic aesthetic is expectation. The best is yet to come. Maybe." - Tony Kushner, Juilliard commencement 2010.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-48323065061335768632010-03-09T03:31:00.002-05:002010-03-09T03:41:08.033-05:00

David Soyer. An inherent problem inextricable with the music world will always be that our mentors, ones that become particularly close to us, are already at the last chapter of their lives when we enter them. I'm 28 now and it's 2010. The death of Isaac Stern didn't affect me at all, and although Mr. Frank's wife passing was a shock, she had been dying for years. Not having Mr. Soyer around,

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-64852101482514182382010-02-09T20:49:00.002-05:002010-02-09T20:52:12.652-05:00

Don Giovanni. Zerlina. Operatic (and perhaps artistic) proof that women truly haven't changed in the last 220 years. When she begs Masetto to beat her ("Batti, batti o bel Masetto [beat me, oh lovely Masetto]"), he should have taken five knuckles and smacked that bitch with the backside of his hand. What a pussy.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com55tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-14424237167444172962010-01-01T02:06:00.002-05:002010-01-01T02:21:51.497-05:00

2010. Tarantinoesque historical revisionism enshrouds the start of a new decade; the press is calling this hell of a decade "the decade from hell." Many have commented that the only time I post any entries in this blog is when I'm frustrated or angry - perhaps, but I'm changing that now. Things are gonna change, they say. But who is they? And is the phrase "they say" an idiosyncratic anachronism

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-27192607769970080542009-11-13T13:36:00.001-05:002009-11-13T13:36:36.342-05:00

Cured.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-26650605034418630472009-09-20T23:41:00.003-04:002009-09-20T23:47:57.278-04:00

Not quite sure how I ever got like this; and not quite ready to admit it. Trying. Failing.xxkrnqtchunsaxx: u r kinda cold to mexxkrnqtchunsaxx: and detachedxxkrnqtchunsaxx: ur numb to everythingcarloco69: am i emotionally shut down and cold?diwupiano: yesdiwupiano: u never answer anything!

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-36313359546154005872009-08-30T19:05:00.001-04:002009-08-30T19:06:41.761-04:00

Seattle. Don't think I've waited this long just to write that I'm literally sleepless in...never mind.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-35157071827687471962009-08-29T02:35:00.008-04:002009-08-29T11:38:35.610-04:00

In Portland, Oregon. On art, expressionism, and suicide. Suicide is the 20th century self-legitimizing defense mechanism for accused-to-be-sensationalist artists. For all the fuss about higher-based intellectually stimulated reasons for suicide, alas, most fall upon the fuss about a girl. In 1907, Arnold Schoenberg discovered that his wife Mathilde (the sister of Zemlinsky) was having an affair

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-55793061228061144962009-08-28T12:14:00.002-04:002009-08-28T12:22:06.235-04:00

The term "concert pianist" is synonymous with "professional musician" which is synonymous with "freelance musician" which is synonymous with "unemployed" which is synonymous with "I'm a douchebag." If the geometric transitive rule applies to the above statement, we're all in a lot of trouble.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-12448604572666631582009-08-26T03:24:00.001-04:002009-08-26T03:25:54.911-04:00

My sister says I have what is called "terminal insomnia."...now re-reading Peter Ostwald's Glenn Gould biography.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-38188893821756891562009-08-26T02:59:00.001-04:002009-08-26T03:00:54.073-04:00

I have problems showing love, gratitude, and any of the synonymous like. Thanks, mama.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-14333774873211990522009-08-22T11:22:00.002-04:002009-08-22T11:31:09.668-04:00

Unable to sleep past 7am, no matter how late I go to bed. Wake up. When Oscar Wilde created Dorian Gray, I'm sure he wasn't thinking about a new Gothic perspective of decadent hedonism on Faustian proportions. I think he just wanted a 6-pack forever, and still be able to eat a Big Mac every day. But if Dorian Gray never opened up what ended up being his own personal Pandora's box, wouldn't he

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-58117394912117595792009-08-17T10:52:00.000-04:002009-08-17T10:56:02.851-04:00

It seems as though people (friends) think of me as the unmaterialized facade of some contorted image of intimidation. I've been asked in the past few weeks alone for help with situations involving the temper of a psychotic boyfriend, ridding an apartment of three Irish subletters continuously causing a disturbance, and police-help with an attempted robbery in Bayside. It struck me that although I

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-52672830619000050552009-08-11T22:58:00.002-04:002009-08-11T23:05:26.269-04:00

2nd mvt. of Schumann Piano Quintet. ..defines torture, madness, insanity, redemption, love, betrayal. But ends in depressive acceptance. The poet speaks, as always, though possibly zu leipzigerisch.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-62821235168012975812009-08-11T21:08:00.002-04:002009-08-11T21:13:34.413-04:00

So here's the dichotomy. The essential necessity for apathetic calm gets more and more difficult to cultivate; but I guess at heart, "necessity" in itself carries a bitter implication of forced-will. In addition, I hate self-pity in others; yet, self-pity is what I fight, day in, day out. Dichotomies of internal self-reflection that require a constant emotional battle force every living organ in

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-82148813575512808162009-08-08T13:30:00.001-04:002009-08-08T13:34:19.713-04:00

"During a lecture the Oxford linguistic philosopher J. L. Austin made the claim that although a double negative in English implies a positive meaning, there is no language in which a double positive implies a negative. To which [Sidney] Morgenbesser responded in a dismissive tone, 'Yeah, right.'"I never didn't not not think that.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-35617544932743882852009-08-08T01:34:00.003-04:002009-08-08T01:44:30.403-04:00

What's worse? Unrequited love, unrequited respect, or unrequited fucking everything?A meal is merely that which precedes a cigarette. A lie is merely that which precedes an apology.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-69828102679385995302009-08-06T15:19:00.002-04:002009-08-06T15:26:04.975-04:00

A cocky challenge. I've taken a lot of shit from many of my friends for various aspects regarding the way I live my life. So...If you think I smoke too much, outrun me. If you think I drink too much, eat as healthy as I do, for even a week. If you think I eat too little, outlift me. Then we'll talk. And if you just rolled your eyes while you read this post, maybe I can offer you another cup of

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-39301302749619278292009-08-03T20:56:00.006-04:002009-08-07T02:46:27.572-04:00

A fictional short story. Emphasis on fictional. Once upon a time, there was a girl named Ching. Her last name was Chong. Ching was a sweet girl in her 20's who had immigrated from Asia at a young age and attended college on a full scholarship in the United States. Ching was a precious girl. She was very careful not to mess up any of her opportunities for which she was so thankful, and she crossed

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-60464384268693991072009-07-27T20:28:00.003-04:002009-07-27T20:42:00.230-04:00

I ran into Joel Sachs today while I was munching on a stale-overpriced piece of mochi from my cup of Pinkberry. (Professor and Director of New Juilliard Ensemble)We talked for a good 10 minutes. Though I didn't ask (nor was I even vaguely curious), he proceeded to bestow upon me an intellectual diatribe regarding my [in]ability to think - according to him, my "vast knowledge of history,

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-86542830049350070322009-07-26T19:47:00.002-04:002009-07-26T19:49:36.320-04:00

Uh oh. This is when you know that your reputation is not quite what you envisioned it to be.mysteriouslove06: hey my sister is coming to Juilliard this yearcarloco69: oh wow nice. let me know if she needs help acclimating herself to the school.mysteriouslove06: stay away from her. carloco69: jesus...

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-83693759217413387782009-07-25T20:24:00.002-04:002009-07-25T20:40:43.113-04:00

The summer of Michael Jackson, Kurt Vonnegut, Mark Rothko, and Alex Ross. Having faked a facade of apathetic recovery while jointly losing an easy 25 pounds, I've found my immutable patience threshold to have evaporated into an ocean of quick-tempered hot oil. Vonnegut says that beautiful girls "do everything they can to give lonely, ordinary people like me indigestion and the heeby-jeebies, and

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-19155147041027162812009-07-13T12:25:00.001-04:002009-07-13T12:25:58.854-04:00

Michael Jackson. My two cents. Last week (a day after the MJ memorial), the New York Times published an op/ed article by Bob Herbert called “Behind the Façade” which made more-or-less raucously unsubstantiated correlations between the constantly-declining cultural hegemony of the United States’ (spiraling into an escape-from-reality) and the symbolic embodiment of American descent into

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-21545312387289920882009-07-08T04:49:00.002-04:002009-07-08T04:51:35.991-04:00

It's going to be a long month. 6 months can pass by in 48 hours. Materialization of drastic realization spells danger with all the wrong letters. Still listening to Michael. Very far from over it.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-75375492017709772072009-07-07T09:14:00.000-04:002009-07-07T09:15:27.352-04:00

"Music is what happens when a smart, group-living, anthropoid ape stumbles into the evolutionary wonderland of run-away sexual selection for complex acoustic displays." Or something like that.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-76698525000462140222009-06-28T03:08:00.001-04:002009-06-28T03:10:35.613-04:00

New apartment. A fresh beginning.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-34410830227356971682009-06-26T02:56:00.002-04:002009-06-26T02:58:20.297-04:00

I also find it hilarious that on Facebook, everybody born before 1984 has some kind of homage to Michael. Everybody born after doesn't even realize he's dead. Y'all ain't nothin' but babies, nahm sayn. Rekhanize greatness.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-86518796161635861462009-06-26T02:02:00.002-04:002009-06-26T02:06:12.940-04:00

Michael Jackson. Rarely am I inclined to post such touchy-feely entries; and at a celebrity I don't even know at that. But today, I saw Thriller LPs selling on broadway starting at $200. I saw a man moonwalking on 63rd to buy coffee. I saw a black guy on the benchpress at the Y singing Billie Jean at top of his lungs. I bought a white glove. He was the greatest ever and the biggest celebrity

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-23473260475644940052009-06-25T14:45:00.003-04:002009-06-25T23:54:01.297-04:00

My sister. I guess in typical sibling tradition, my sister and I used to fight endlessly - most often, about stupid shit. Watching her transform into a beautiful and intelligent person endlessly more mature than I, has been both humbling and inspiring.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-86630138218675257332009-06-25T04:23:00.000-04:002009-06-25T04:24:23.237-04:00

Back off, skank whore. This is your last warning.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-38505579678749812442009-06-22T01:40:00.002-04:002009-06-22T01:52:57.835-04:00

Most sweat-filled, inspiring, in-the-moment performances of the last few years:Rachmaninoff Cello Sonata, 3rd mvt, with Earl at Juilliard.Schubert, Impromptu Op. 90 No. 3, Montreal and Spain.Brahms, Piano Quartet in c, with Eric/Kristin/Milena in Florida.Franck, Cello (violin) Sonata, with Mihai in Louisville. Rachmaninoff, Piano Concerto No. 2, with Henry in Berkeley. Piazzolla, Nightclub 1960,

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-66250191468719025112009-06-16T02:46:00.003-04:002009-06-16T03:18:10.497-04:00

Lies.Extreme rage/anger enshrouds logical thought [slash] pain like the fog from the grapevine on highway 5 hides the beauty of the life of L.A.In twelve hours, I play a recital (for seriously, artistically-minimum-wage) of Schumann's Fantasy Pieces; mostly about subjects of love or the like.Trying desperately to prevent rage and anger from consuming me. Failing.But on another note, Dave/Jerry/

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-10437089086246462862009-06-15T04:45:00.001-04:002009-06-15T04:46:32.306-04:00

What a ridiculously absurd night in San Francisco.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-50055418929383474662009-06-12T02:23:00.001-04:002009-06-12T02:23:23.923-04:00

...and found both at the MoMa today.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-65432449578417279532009-06-11T12:42:00.001-04:002009-06-11T12:44:51.096-04:00

Searching for meaning in the sweat filled confines of the YMCA; searching for redemption in the windowless enclosures of the Juilliard practice rooms.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-16177267786211814672009-06-07T01:04:00.000-04:002009-06-07T01:06:56.155-04:00

Wow. More lies. The title of Ned Rorem's final diaries: "Lies."

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-59451726142596154282009-06-07T00:04:00.001-04:002009-06-07T00:07:00.905-04:00

Midnight hits. Pathetic self-pity. Man up, they say. Man up...

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-77240069607252751602009-06-06T16:00:00.002-04:002009-06-06T16:05:11.790-04:00

Days are filled with the pluralism of emotional thought; exhausting to juggle daily rage, acceptance, and apathy. Do oxford commas really provide clarification?

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-12025904119037830202009-06-06T15:40:00.003-04:002009-06-07T01:20:43.430-04:00

Movies. Is taste an indicative Rorschach test? Seung-Hui Cho gunned down 32 innocent people in 2007 at what is now-known as the Virginia Tech Massacre - prior to that, his seemingly-innocent obsession with Chan-Wook Park's "Oldboy" went unnoticed, in spite of his already-psychotic tendencies. As Mikey loves to point out, "My Sassy Girl" in perspective is much more of a horror film than a chick

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-19364180877643492172009-06-03T11:56:00.002-04:002009-06-03T12:08:32.499-04:00

So...Yes, I've been casually discussing the utilization of this summer to quote-unquote put my life back together - since that phrase seems to be abstract at best, let me tangibilize it. Here's my day. I wake up in the morning, and cook myself breakfast. I head to Juilliard and practice for a few hours. I go to the YMCA where I pound out an hour of cardio and some light weights, before hitting

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-2400143842624059872009-05-23T20:34:00.002-04:002009-05-23T20:52:45.512-04:00

As most of you know, I have a particularly distasteful aversion to the cliché loathings of love's loss; usually over-generalized hyperbolic statements pseudo-intellectually (emphasis on 'pseudo') intended to demonstrate wisdom - and most often induce my vomit-reflex or the mandatory roll of the eyes. You see it from a girl, usually, who says some retarded shit like "nothing is harder than love,"

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-4457714049338241662009-05-22T01:31:00.002-04:002009-05-22T01:35:41.192-04:00

It's been awhile. If you are as gay as I am, no problem too large exists that can't be solved with a home-cooked omelet breakfast, a mid-afternoon chamber music reading session with Beethoven and Brahms, a late-afternoon museum run to see Gertrude Stein-Picasso portraits at the Yale University Art Gallery, an evening of chinese take-out, and a night of single-malt. But only if you're as gay as I

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-437691947203222142009-01-07T22:26:00.001-05:002009-01-07T22:27:11.899-05:00

"Bitch is the new black, but black is the new President, bitch!" - Saturday Night Live

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-66657072211401827252009-01-03T23:43:00.003-05:002010-01-01T02:39:17.409-05:00

The obligatory New Year's post. Reflections on 2008.Another sordidly potent year, albeit this one infused with the psychological disaster of futility and the materialization of apathetic discourse. What did I do this year? Countries upon countries of squalid thought; reinvigorating the necessity for self-reflection in order to combat my own hedonistic life style. At the end, what will I think of

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-2422105178765287812008-12-21T10:32:00.003-05:002008-12-21T10:42:49.687-05:00

Moma. I saw the Van Gogh exhibit the other day. Haunting. 4th and 5th floors; the Rothkos and Pollocks. What sad depressive men. These days I have about as much desire to go to a classical music concert as I do to drink the pimple-juice of a diseased chicken from the farm of a third-world country. Concerts uninterest me (is that a verb?) unless they contain either something new/fresh or free

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-87931733541335101732008-12-20T14:08:00.002-05:002008-12-20T14:09:33.391-05:00

Apathy at 2pm.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-90520206248237824972008-12-20T02:09:00.001-05:002008-12-20T02:09:13.423-05:00

Apathy at 2am.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-50281511326155392002008-11-08T03:20:00.001-05:002008-11-08T03:23:33.373-05:00

Who needs a psychiatrist? Analysis: Loneleliness begets depression; which begets insecurity; which bets alcoholism; which begets loneliness. Repeat.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-89077720565865982242008-10-21T02:20:00.001-04:002008-10-21T02:21:46.965-04:00

On the 1 train tonight, 12:30am, an HIV-positive lady cries for change. She says:"People that judge don't matter, and people that matter don't judge."

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-33081653639664677142008-10-19T22:52:00.002-04:002008-10-19T23:20:21.632-04:00

I'm at Juilliard. Deluged by thought; I can't practice. Nearly all thinkers in history have been influenced by their romantic life... Are we all the same? Think about Petrarch's poems, or Beethoven's late works, Dostoevsky's novels, Klimpt's and Rothko's paintings, Hemingway's novels - at the risk of ridiculous comparison, Brahms and Schumann's music (both hurt by a girl with whom I share a

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-49910233349383922792008-09-22T23:35:00.003-04:002008-09-22T23:37:12.716-04:00

For some artists, art is what drives him to suicide. For others, art is the sole thing that prevents him from suicide. Why is this?

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-57545625130463395192008-09-22T01:00:00.003-04:002008-09-22T01:06:42.901-04:00

Another school year starts at the yard. I used to be under the misguided impression (or assumption) that musicians and artists do what they do because they value an artistic aesthetic over financial stability - basically, that we care about happiness over money. But I think I was wrong. All my friends from Berkeley are at heart, happier than most of my true artist-friends. Why is this? Musicians

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-69067623206485305202008-09-20T04:55:00.001-04:002008-09-20T04:56:18.693-04:00

Did I do all I could do tonight? It's 5am; wondering and worrying...

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-30106021453954980142008-09-07T00:49:00.002-04:002008-09-07T00:51:32.394-04:00

Again. Kaufman. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Why.Maybe because at the end, Kaufman decides that Joel Barish decides to make the same mistake again (out of pure emotional contact); fully aware of the disastrous consequences. Surrealism. This screenplay is surreal.

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-89291190737694979152008-09-06T22:24:00.003-04:002008-09-06T22:43:19.831-04:00

It's Saturday night and I'm sick.I think, having been doing reading for the last few hours on early-20th century philosophies of thought regarding art, that the substantial core of my emotional being generally yearns for expressionism - that I spend my life resolving the dialectic between thought and feeling, painstaikingly hoping that the latter may bring me some soul-based freedom from the

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-79637937884260028022008-09-06T02:32:00.000-04:002008-09-06T02:34:47.928-04:00

Sarah Palin fills me with violent, enraged, depressive, passionately vindictive tendencies. Girls fucking blow. Were those two statements linked or mutually exclusive?

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-73030126307140228852008-09-05T02:43:00.004-04:002008-09-05T02:46:27.690-04:00

Everybody has personal problems. Let's face it. Everybody thinks they've been hurt badly in the past. Everybody thinks they have baggage. Everybody thinks they know what it means to be absolutely miserable. It's cliche and taboo at this age to even bitch and moan about what kind of problems you might be having with him or her. But sometimes life sucks so much, it's too painful to endure. I guess

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887550.post-8541799908533642132008-08-27T20:24:00.002-04:002008-08-27T20:38:22.233-04:00

Mark Rothko, Abstract Expressionism.I find it depressively disturbing that I'm extactically drawn to the abstractionism of Mark Rothko - what is it about his art that touches me? I look at his works; and I get sad. Ha. That sounded minimalistically ignorant and trite. But it's true...Rothko never defined his art. His obsession with Nietzsche's prototypical categorization of the universe in terms

Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09055242784623618143noreply@blogger.com0