the 6th floor

i went to the symphony to hear Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis and felt strangely impervious. Not exactly there, except for those heartbreaking beautiful violin solos, vocal solos, and the parts in between where most of the audience is coughing. which makes me think that the Missa is not my favorite format. There’s just too much for me to keep track of. Except for those enthralling solos. I also like how the huge choir formed into this wall of sound.

But actually my favorite part was when I arrived at the concert hall. I showed my ticket to the ticket-taker who informed/forewarned me that my seat was on the 6th floor and I could either take the elevator, or climb up 6 flights of stairs. When she saw my eyes were aimed at the stairwell, she gave me a pat on the shoulder as if to say “godspeed,” as if I were about to ascend Mount Everest dressed only in my pajamas.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s