Elgar Posted at 11:05 AM
i come here every bloody day with ten thousand things to write about but nothing i can truly talk passionately about. this reeks. i used to talk about even a dying plant passionately.
but do you know what i am passionate about right at this moment though? Classical Music.
in fact, i am listening to Sir Edward Elgar's string pieces these days for that tiny morsel of inspiration i've been scavenging for since i started this semester. but lets leave the pissing and moaning for later, now i want to tell you about Elgar.

i stumbled upon Mr. Elgar by chance. i was watching this film i've had since forever that i've been meaning to watch but never got around to, August Rush starring, hello, Jonathan Rhys Meyers duh. =) So there was this part where the dramatic beginning of Elgar's Cello Concerto in E Minor played and conveniently blends into the beginning of this song, Something Inside sung by Jonny himself in the film. Oh he plays a forsaken rockstar in there go figure. X)
little did anyone know, i was a classical music enthusiast when i was little. one of the many things i gave up when unforseen circumstances took over. i loved music classes in junior school when Mrs. Ailing would make us listen to Bach and paint our emotions with wild colours while Johann Strauss was blaring in the background. she inspired me to improvise this simple impromtu Elizabethan lullaby on the glockenspiel for Tudor Week for everyone to listen to. she taught me how to play King Henry VIII's Green Sleeves on the harpsichord. but none of that matters now..
Cello Concert in E Op. 85: Adagio - Moderato - Pieter Wispelwey
so i took the time to listen to the whole of actual concerto, and it sounded anything BUT inspirational.. it's melancholic and livid. i am imagining the intro, back alley of a building, there lies a dying man drowning in his own pool of blood, determined to fight death as he struggles to rise to his feet again like a fish flapping around in a puddle. the violas come in and the last few hours of his life swims through his mind as he just lies there recollecting life. for what it is worth, this was forseen. his life as he knew it, was uncanny and doomed to a tragic ending sooner rather than later. those around here who live to see wrinkles on their skin were the few fortunate ones. the cello reiterates again bringing him back to where he is now and all that is left to understand. the piece then dives into the more lyrical middle theme of violins and woodwinds and light brass and kettle drums where we leave this man, run away from the alley out into the open and see the bigger picture. where the ground is tarnished with drying blood of perished thousands, young and old. night wash over and the moonlight spills over the scattering bodies curled in submission and the final hopes of mercy and defence.




and then the softer more nostalgic tunes eases in on the scene's most heart wrenching part of all, when children die in the embrace of their mothers who die along with them in vain. In vain.

the genocide goes on but what are we to ever do about all of this. we sulk and moan about failing in our studies and waking up every morning, hair looking like a clump of hay. these people wake up every morning with the sole thankfulness that they are not dead..yet. we come home from class in the evening thinking of what to eat for tea. these people run home from the sundry dodging bullets, and upon arrival see their houses reduced to ash and debris and the first thing they do is scream for their mothers and sisters in dying hope that they are alright..
it breaks my heart to see my muslim brothers and sisters tortured and killed and there's nothing i can do about it. it makes me angry that i can never be grateful enough about my life when these people are being robbed of the rights to keep theirs. these people pray for the love of God to let them die first before getting to watch their children murdered right in front of their eyes, and we forsake our own daily prayers for ourselves and for them just because going out dressing like a stripper and getting drunk all night passing out in someone else's room is more fun and the epitome of appreciating life..
it makes me feel guilty for ever having fun and enjoying life anymore. what is life worth when we're not willing to give it up and die for others..
what do we do now?..








