There's nothing like poetry to jazz up a weekend at home.
While the rest of State College was reveling in the joys of "State Patty's Day," I was home this weekend to catch up on some sleep and homework. Well, I tried to tried to catch up on sleep and homework. I actually watched a lot of On Demand movies.
However, after an emotional viewing of Titanic, On the Beach, and Attack of the Clones, I put aside my remote Saturday night to attend a classical music concert where my brother was playing his bassoon.
As I rode downtown, though, I started to get a little nervous – where was I going to get something exciting to write about for nightlife blog? I had already blown Friday night watching movies and a classical music concert didn't sound like it was going to be terribly exciting to a college audience.
As the concert began, my fears seemed to be confirmed. Nothing out of the ordinary in this mix of dedicated students, proud parents, and rich benefactors.
But then the emo-kid walked onto stage.
Normally, it's not unusual to find an emotional, dark-clothes-loving kid among a batch of adolescents. But at a classical music concert, where everyone else had trimmed hair and bright eyes, the guy stood out with his dark clothes, penetrating eyes, and long, dark hair, streaked with highlights.
The other students in his quartet settled into their chairs as the emo-kid stood up and announced that the group would be performing a piece he wrote while working as a parking attendant in Ocean City, New Jersey. (Note to self: Tip extra next time at the beach – he could be the next Beethoven.) Emo-kid explained that the his piece was inspired by the children and ferris wheels at carnivals and the "loss of innocence" that we all experience.
He also announced that he had written two poems to go with his music. He began by describing the "wheel of electric fire," then moved on to the child's eyes: "searching for nothing and finding everything." Then he moved to the landscape: "Behind the heat of modern chaos, the ocean copulates with the stars."
By the time he was finished, I was starting to feel really moved. I felt like turning to the old people on my right and saying "Don't fight the deepness." And I almost wanted to go copulate with some stars myself.
I caught up with the guy after the concert and asked him if he actually wrote the music on the job. He said no – that he usually thought it up at work and wrote it down later – a "very disorganized composition process." I complimented him and my parents took a picture just in case he hit it big.
