69th entry to the Colonel`s Scrapbook
Birthdates on November 06:
1558 Thomas Kyd English dramatist (Spanish Tragedy) , no kidding going on here1661 Charles II last Habsburg king of Spain (1665-1700),so deformed he couldn`t even have kids
1771 Alois Senefelder inventor (lithography)we owe him so much!
1814 Adolphe Sax Belgium, musician/inventor (saxophone) invented what people call the saxophone due to his instrument`s sensuous sound 1851 Charles H Dow co-founded Dow Jones/1st editor of Wall St Journal ,and since then his last name is synonymous to headaches1854 John Phillip Sousa Wash DC, march king (Stars & Stripes Forever,The March of all Animal Kingdom),the unique and melodious March King1860 Ignace Jan Paderewski Kurylowka Poland, composer/pianist/patriot,played like a politician, made politics like a prima donna pianist
Deaths which occurred on November 06:
1632 King Gustavus Aldophus of Sweden, dies in battle, left him there naked with his butt into the air,then his crybaby widow took his heart out and hung it over her bed
1893 Peter Ilitch Tchaikovsky of cholera,after having drunk a glass of unboiled water,greatest Russian composer,author of Swan Lake,The Nutcracker and his famous Diary in which he confessed his homosexuality,I adore him so much it almost hurts
1796 Empress Catherine II the Great of Russia dies while showering,hey she was hot but was not coupling with a horse as black male historian envy`s legend has it
Events
1813 Chilpancingo congress declares Mexico independent of Spain,wow finally1844 Spain grants Dominican Rep independence,was about time
1917 Bolshevik revolution begins with the capture of the Winter Palace,yessssss,got the gobbling family that ruined Russia,can`t imagine how they would later become saints of the Russian Orthodox Church
Peter
I wouldn`t have chosen to die of cholera. Too painful,rather messy. How can someone who set us to sing,even a baby like I was sang his music,die in such a tasteless fashion? I have so many questions to ask him,dearest reader of every single day that I breathe, and I wish someone would gurantee me that there is a hell or a heaven or half sewn together purgatory,somewhere that I can look into to find him there, with his blue eyes, his elegant polar bear beard, and question him what was his formula for producing such seamless, flawless and such tear- jerking music. One might ask me,ma`am, you do produce tear-jerkers in this same Colonel`s Scrapbook, or your story about My TellTale Heart, what do you want more salty tears for?
I have loved Peter Ilich Tchaikovsky since I was a baby, or maybe in my mother`s belly I was already his fan. Still in my crib,before I learned to walk,I chilled everyone when at 7 months old,I sang the introduction to The Nutcracker. Everyone listening could distinguish it was The Nutcracker. Nothing else.
From that moment on Peter and I became fast friends. When I had the great luck of being owned by the most beautiful cat ion the world, my pet Torta, it would have been a sin not to introduce her to such heavenly music. So when my mother really wanted to quiet both of us nasty little vase-breaking beasts, she would place a stack of records containing Peter`s music on the record player. That was the end of our insolence. We would sit down on the old Austrian sofa made of simple polished wicker, and drool. We both learned Peter`s music by heart, maybe because it was aimed exactly at the heart.
Then,it was inevitable that the grey-eyed, pudgy little me who got sent to study ballet with our premier danseur Heriberto Mercado, would fall in love more steadily with Peter. He is the man to listen to when you study classical ballet. Dressed in my pale pink tutu,hair rolled up in a bun trying to imitate Anna Pavlova(we have such gall, when we are young kids), Peter was my great companion at the barre, He would sweep me into the air,correct my port de bras.
At age five I was the White Cat from the Cat in Boots pas de deux in the Sleeping Beauty,and I tried to look graceful, but I really looked like a pregnant Siberian tigress. An effort was made because my mom paid juicy sums to see her cub in ballet tights,so I was re-cast as the Swan Queen in Swan Lake,and try as I might
to look like a swan I was really a dancing stuffed turkey. I knew I was never going to be Nicaragua`s competition for Tamara Karsavina,or Mathilde Kschessinskaya.
But I found a way to keep Peter with me all my life,and I became musically trained. The piano wasn’t Chopin or Liszt for me, it was Tchaikovsky.So many years of playing his music, and then the thunderclap fell.
I was a student at the French Conservatory when we had to read everything about Peter. Everything meant also his Diary. Unexpurgated version. My ears burned and I turned red .Why hadn`t anybody bothered to prepare me for this? I have nothing against gays, dearest reader. I respect their way of life, it is a question of taste, not a malady. Reading his diary left me drained. I cried when nobody saw me. I couldn’t reject Peter out of prejudice, by judging what he did without his pants on. I would have to hate Alexander the Great, Leonardo Da Vinci and Louis XIVth younger brother. No way. How scared could Petr have been in a double morality society? He called his homosexuality Sensation X. His brother Modeste was one of his guys. So afraid of losing his job, of being seen in public with his guy.
The same society that a century before had seen Catherine the Great romping around with the ancestor of composer Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov…who was envious of Peter`s enormous success. Slowly I assimilated Petr`s homosexuality. He had given me too many intense moments of joy with his music for me to ever discriminate against him.
I can`t stop believing Peter committed suicide. He had just premiered his last symphony,Pathetique, and he had lost his great patroness Nadezhdavon Meck,who was alike a mother, patroness, platonic lover and confidante all wrapped into one nice package. Drinking unboiled water while cholera swept across Russia in a big epidemic was the unwisest thing a person could do. I wouldn `t have chosen to do myself in like that, if I had ever thought about such nonsense as killing myself.
Peter has always been a sort of bearded guardian angel for me,if angels would really exist. It is funny that Russià s greatest genius should have died the way he did. In reality,he was always the embodiment of his own beautiful song None but the Lonely Heart. So that is why I shall always remember him with my heart in my hand set out towards him.
Birthdates on November 06:
1558 Thomas Kyd English dramatist (Spanish Tragedy) , no kidding going on here1661 Charles II last Habsburg king of Spain (1665-1700),so deformed he couldn`t even have kids
1771 Alois Senefelder inventor (lithography)we owe him so much!
1814 Adolphe Sax Belgium, musician/inventor (saxophone) invented what people call the saxophone due to his instrument`s sensuous sound 1851 Charles H Dow co-founded Dow Jones/1st editor of Wall St Journal ,and since then his last name is synonymous to headaches1854 John Phillip Sousa Wash DC, march king (Stars & Stripes Forever,The March of all Animal Kingdom),the unique and melodious March King1860 Ignace Jan Paderewski Kurylowka Poland, composer/pianist/patriot,played like a politician, made politics like a prima donna pianist
Deaths which occurred on November 06:
1632 King Gustavus Aldophus of Sweden, dies in battle, left him there naked with his butt into the air,then his crybaby widow took his heart out and hung it over her bed
1893 Peter Ilitch Tchaikovsky of cholera,after having drunk a glass of unboiled water,greatest Russian composer,author of Swan Lake,The Nutcracker and his famous Diary in which he confessed his homosexuality,I adore him so much it almost hurts
1796 Empress Catherine II the Great of Russia dies while showering,hey she was hot but was not coupling with a horse as black male historian envy`s legend has it
Events
1813 Chilpancingo congress declares Mexico independent of Spain,wow finally1844 Spain grants Dominican Rep independence,was about time
1917 Bolshevik revolution begins with the capture of the Winter Palace,yessssss,got the gobbling family that ruined Russia,can`t imagine how they would later become saints of the Russian Orthodox Church
Peter
I wouldn`t have chosen to die of cholera. Too painful,rather messy. How can someone who set us to sing,even a baby like I was sang his music,die in such a tasteless fashion? I have so many questions to ask him,dearest reader of every single day that I breathe, and I wish someone would gurantee me that there is a hell or a heaven or half sewn together purgatory,somewhere that I can look into to find him there, with his blue eyes, his elegant polar bear beard, and question him what was his formula for producing such seamless, flawless and such tear- jerking music. One might ask me,ma`am, you do produce tear-jerkers in this same Colonel`s Scrapbook, or your story about My TellTale Heart, what do you want more salty tears for?
I have loved Peter Ilich Tchaikovsky since I was a baby, or maybe in my mother`s belly I was already his fan. Still in my crib,before I learned to walk,I chilled everyone when at 7 months old,I sang the introduction to The Nutcracker. Everyone listening could distinguish it was The Nutcracker. Nothing else.
From that moment on Peter and I became fast friends. When I had the great luck of being owned by the most beautiful cat ion the world, my pet Torta, it would have been a sin not to introduce her to such heavenly music. So when my mother really wanted to quiet both of us nasty little vase-breaking beasts, she would place a stack of records containing Peter`s music on the record player. That was the end of our insolence. We would sit down on the old Austrian sofa made of simple polished wicker, and drool. We both learned Peter`s music by heart, maybe because it was aimed exactly at the heart.
Then,it was inevitable that the grey-eyed, pudgy little me who got sent to study ballet with our premier danseur Heriberto Mercado, would fall in love more steadily with Peter. He is the man to listen to when you study classical ballet. Dressed in my pale pink tutu,hair rolled up in a bun trying to imitate Anna Pavlova(we have such gall, when we are young kids), Peter was my great companion at the barre, He would sweep me into the air,correct my port de bras.
At age five I was the White Cat from the Cat in Boots pas de deux in the Sleeping Beauty,and I tried to look graceful, but I really looked like a pregnant Siberian tigress. An effort was made because my mom paid juicy sums to see her cub in ballet tights,so I was re-cast as the Swan Queen in Swan Lake,and try as I might
to look like a swan I was really a dancing stuffed turkey. I knew I was never going to be Nicaragua`s competition for Tamara Karsavina,or Mathilde Kschessinskaya.
But I found a way to keep Peter with me all my life,and I became musically trained. The piano wasn’t Chopin or Liszt for me, it was Tchaikovsky.So many years of playing his music, and then the thunderclap fell.
I was a student at the French Conservatory when we had to read everything about Peter. Everything meant also his Diary. Unexpurgated version. My ears burned and I turned red .Why hadn`t anybody bothered to prepare me for this? I have nothing against gays, dearest reader. I respect their way of life, it is a question of taste, not a malady. Reading his diary left me drained. I cried when nobody saw me. I couldn’t reject Peter out of prejudice, by judging what he did without his pants on. I would have to hate Alexander the Great, Leonardo Da Vinci and Louis XIVth younger brother. No way. How scared could Petr have been in a double morality society? He called his homosexuality Sensation X. His brother Modeste was one of his guys. So afraid of losing his job, of being seen in public with his guy.
The same society that a century before had seen Catherine the Great romping around with the ancestor of composer Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov…who was envious of Peter`s enormous success. Slowly I assimilated Petr`s homosexuality. He had given me too many intense moments of joy with his music for me to ever discriminate against him.
I can`t stop believing Peter committed suicide. He had just premiered his last symphony,Pathetique, and he had lost his great patroness Nadezhdavon Meck,who was alike a mother, patroness, platonic lover and confidante all wrapped into one nice package. Drinking unboiled water while cholera swept across Russia in a big epidemic was the unwisest thing a person could do. I wouldn `t have chosen to do myself in like that, if I had ever thought about such nonsense as killing myself.
Peter has always been a sort of bearded guardian angel for me,if angels would really exist. It is funny that Russià s greatest genius should have died the way he did. In reality,he was always the embodiment of his own beautiful song None but the Lonely Heart. So that is why I shall always remember him with my heart in my hand set out towards him.
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