Diary

March 25, 1997
So, I was listening to Little Earthquakes. I was doing fine. I just made it through Silent All These Years when it hit me.

I heard Precious Things and my fingers just had to move. I tried fingering out the notes and was just having an emotional pour out to the music.

I calmed down with Winter. I was at peace.

I kept going to Leather and my fingers danced more.

With Mother, I just wanted to reach out and grab someone...anyone, but I was alone.

I listened to Tear In Your Hand and I could see the tonic and dominate seventh chords in front of me. Not the music book I was looking at. I could see the piano keys as if they were right in front of me.

I kept pressing my fingers down, but there was no sound.

I tried again.

And again.

Again.

Again.

Damn.

Why isn't there any sound. I know the keys, but there is no sound. I kept pressing and pressing on the ground. I stopped the music.

I clenched my hands as though I had arthritis or something. My arms got tense. My fist was clenched so tight that I may of been able to puncture my palm with my chewed nails. I didn't. I was pouring with tears. I was a mess.

I took off my glasses and wiped my tears away with my shirt.

I couldn't go on.

It was too hard for me.

I need my piano.
My music.

I need to hear notes pour out of my fingers when I am trying to make music.
My life is not without a piano.

I have none now.

This is not much of a life.



I need a piano.

"Drops of Ivory",since July 1997