I was thinking about blogging about my weekend, it certainly was interesting enough to warrant a blog. I could write about how my alternator gave up outside of Wetaskiwin and how I left it there for the night to attend a wedding. I could write about how we bought parts and went to fix it and my car wasn't there. I could then tell about how we discovered that my car got towed and was impounded. I could tell about how we got to the impound and discovered that two windows on my car had been smashed and there were muddy footprints on the roof, likely explaining the big dent beside the sunroof. I could moan about my stolen cds, cd player, and new wrenches that were supposed to be returned. But I actually have a more tragic story to tell.
For those of you who followed my previous myspace blog you'll be aware of the blog I wrote about Karen Gomyo. (I'll post the relevant excerpt at the end of this blog.) As you may know, I was surprised to receive a reply from Karen who also had a myspace profile.
Now when I wrote the first blog about Karen it was totally tongue in cheek. I had no intention of contacting her, nor did I expect ever think of her again. When I learned that she had a myspace profile I sent her a link to my blog but didn't expect her to read it. Well she did read it and then she wrote me a reply setting into motion an unfortunate chain of events.
The first problem was that I wasn't lying when I wrote that Karen Gomyo is beautiful. Nor was I lying when I said that I find musical women attractive, and Karen is a professional musician. The next problem is that I suffer from the same disease that most guys suffer from, basically if a girl pays attention to me I optimistically think that she's interested. The final problem is that Karen perfectly fits into the category of girl that I always fall for, unattainable.
We kept up a correspondence for a little while and likely she was just kindly sending out a few emails to a fan. I however, feel that she had a more devious plan in place.
The first email that she sent was short, a polite reply to the blog I sent. She ignored my reply and I thought that I had heard the last of her. Then a couple of weeks later, out of the blue, came another email much longer and more personal. I was very surprised. I wrote back but she did not reply; not for a couple more weeks anyhow. I replied but this time I was kept waiting, and waiting. There were no more replies.
A few weeks later I went to write her another email and to my surprise she had deleted her profile. I was quite shocked, this time I knew it was over. I was quite disappointed and not just because I wanted her opinion on some violin recordings that I discussed in one of my blogs.
A week later I received a myspace email from someone named Karen. Her profile was completely blank except for her name, age and location. It was her, or perhaps someone playing a cruel prank on my, giving her opinion on the recordings. She had read my blog, and then created a profile solely to write me. This time I didn't know what to think .
The thing that she managed to do was write me an email just when I had lost all hope that I would hear from her again. I would always got through the same cycle of surprise at an email, hope for another reply, followed by disappointed resignation. Each email that she sent though, would further the reason for hope and those emotions would grow stronger with each cycle.
The problem is that now I see the pattern of receiving an email only after I've given up hope. Now I've lost hope that I'll hear from her again yet I know that it is in this time that she sends an email so I am unable to give up hope. She's got me stuck in an awful limbo. Obviously she is just toying with me for fun. Miss Havisham would be so proud.
The other thing is that I've got so many questions to ask her. "Is there time to sightsee when playing in foreign cities? Do you enjoy traveling so much? Have you visited the John Lennon Memorial in Central Park? Do you have the Stradivarius at your house when not touring or is it locked up? Will you marry me? What does Ex Foulis mean?
Man if she knew what she's done to me.
2 comments:
I forgot the original blog post. Her is the excerpt:
In my head I can already play it all out. It'll start with the fan letter that I'll write her. (It would be easier if I had seen her play last night) In it I will invite her out for coffee. She is, of course, always surrounded by fawning admirers and and demanding managers and conductors. I will provide a breath of fresh air for somebody living a life of stress and demands.
Over coffee I will be friendly, funny and charming, she will be sophisticated, alluring and exotic. I will provide a window of normality and calm, she will provide a breath of excitment.
We will enjoy several days of bliss as we experience infatuation and attraction of a hollywood romance level. Then her busy schedule will beckon and she will be off on a road trip to New York, London and then Tokyo. I will be back to work installing doors, casing and baseboard. She will be my foil, awing audiences with the beauty of her sublime playing. The most perceptive critics will wonder where the new found passion in her playing came from. Every memeber of the audience will tangibly feel the love and pain of seperation singing from her violin.
We will both rack up exhorbitant long distance phone bills, with me short on sleep from spending hours on the phone in the early morning hours to make up for the time differences. She will relate her feelings on bearing the weight of heavy expectations and I will comort her with jokes. Perhaps I will quote "A Valediction Forbidding Mourning" to her. I will surprise her with a visit to one of her concerts in Paris. It will be awkward though, both wondering how long this can last.
Perhaps it will start when I, in exhaustion, will nod off while on the phone with her. Perhaps there will be a handsome celloist with perfect pitch who can better understand her life. In any case a slow decline will occur. Her life and mine will be too different; we both know how the script ends before we arrive there.
I will lose Karen to the demands of the road. However, one day many years from now she will be long since retired. Then she will look back on her career, remembering the standing ovations in Carnegie Hall, the glamour of exposing her soul through music with the best musicians in the world. She will then remember the only person who treated her as a person instead of a commodity. The only man who gave more than he asked for. She will remember this and wonder if she made the right decision.
Then she will pick up her Stradavarius and play a tune so mournfully that the angels themselves will fly down and incline their ears to the tune. The tears they shed will fall as drips of rain and in that moment the world will stop and all hearts will beat with the same rhythm, and all hands will drop their weapons, unclench their fists, and join hands and cry for the terrible beauty and tragedy of love.
Something funny happens when you're friends with fame (notice the careful alliteration in that sentence). Remember Andrea Greenway? Our times in Couch Opera? Did you hear how last week as she's waitressing tables in Vancouver her boss has her sing in the restaurant where David Foster (the record producer mogul) is eating. Did you hear how he asked her how quickly she could be on a plane? Did you hear how he's flown her to Calgary, Toronto, L.A. and Malibu in the last week to sing and record demos. Anyways... it seems that as soon as you become someone famous everyone wants in. When I first joined up with facebook Andrea was one of my first contacts, and so after this "opportunity" happened to her I checked up on her. I was surprised by the sheer amount of friend requests she's had in the past few days. "Hey, I heard what happened.. remember me?" la dee da... kinda tragic, I think. I enjoy this couch opera that you've got going on... can't wait to see how it plays out.
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