The Last Laugh
a childhood anecdote

My cousin Joe, eleven years my senior, used to make me play board games with him. His favorite game at one point was 'Risk', a game whose board displayed the world map and the objective was to conquer the world with your army. Of course, at the tender age of eight, I still needed both hands to roll the dice and hadn't quite grasped the concept of world domination. Still, this arrangement worked well for us since I got to hang out with the coolest guy on earth and Joe got to win every game. Really, he slaughtered me mercilessly and had a ton of fun.

He must've learned to pick on the little cousin from his dad, my uncle.

You can count on my uncle for mischief, and a good laugh. He recently confessed that he picked on me when I was two and greedy for gummy candy. He presented me with candy, "Say 'I'm a dumbell' first. Go on, say it...'I'm a dumbell', and you can have this candy".

Now, I was little but not ignorant. I knew he was out to make me a fool, but I wanted that candy like a sin. And I was a determined little brat even then. I looked at him, wide-eyed, as one who's about to banish all innocence and integrity, and reached out my hand to receive my candy as I obediently chanted, "I'm a dumbell". Everyone laughed and felt sorry for me, but I had bigger plans.

With the candy safe and delicious in my mouth, I looked my uncle straight in the eye, shook my head at him and said, "I'm not a dumbell".

And they thought I was duped!

The Recapitulation

In musical terms, the recapitulation of the sonata form is the closing part of the movement, in which expository themes are restated. Often times, it is a close if not exact repetition of the exposition with regards to material content. Of course, material (the noun) is simply material (the adjective); the matter from which a thing is made only consists of matter and relates to the physical, not the intellectual or spiritual. But, thankfully, music is not single-dimensioned like the physical, but is experienced both intellectually and spiritually as well.

Because this is so, the recapitulation will never, never be the same as the exposition. The contrasting middle section which lies between the exposition and recaptulation, the development, is expressive with gestures of instability and flux; at times, the development is downright stormy and tumultuous. Thus, in listening to a movement as a whole, the recapitulation cannot psychologically be the same experience as the exposition, even if the two share exact material content.

Music is an expression through time. So is life.

I look the same. But I will never, never be the same as I was a year ago. After all, how can the recapitulation be the same after all it has been through.

Writing in form: a villanelle

Love Song

He couldn't see that we were through,
Shut his ears to what I had said.
(I might as well have loved a shoe.)

Poor lad -- loved me with all he knew,
Until his face swelled blue and red.
He couldn't see that we were through.

He thought to impress with bold pursuit,
But thick as leather was his head.
(I might as well have loved a shoe.)

Sent goodies by the box-load too,
And love-sick letters now and then.
He couldn't see that we were through.

If only our words were not so few,
My dulling heart would not have fled!
(I might as well have loved a shoe.)

He held to the cause, stoic and true,
But we should have parted ways instead.
He couldn't see that we were through.
(I might as well have loved a shoe.)

Writing in form: a mini dramatic dialogue
-- written in jest after reading Robert Browning's "My Last Duchess"


Time Worthwhile

He waits while I pin my hair
Placing each strand with utmost care.
Leaving a moment to sip some wine
My dear, just a minute - But look at the time!

To fancy yourself with pearls and sashes
Amounts to nothing once laid in our ashes.
(So I shall remain silent and resist her smiles -
Lest flattery imply my wasted time worthwhile!)

Hmph! Have all my efforts been in vain?
For not a single word except to complain!
But later, his annoyance I gladly took
When he snuck me one affectionate look.