You Are Just A Lucky Little Fool

You Are Just A Lucky Little Fool

I said, I could love almost any woman at long last and almost any woman could love me at long last. They certainly are wonderful women, each one. You’re just a lucky little fool. I’ve not the chance to know them that long. Ha. Ha. So said Opa Johan to his wife.

July 2013

 

My Max

My Max

Here he – he is almost 70 - sings, without loudspeakers.

Skip this, except you’re also an amateur singer:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_SigeVvDWJo

You did it, so I praised him. I didn’t tell him he was even better than others I know of, as that would make him haughty. You should surpass, defeat yourself, not others so I said to my members.

He is so poor, lives alone very far away. It takes him more than one hour and a half walking and travelling by bus, the cheapest means to get to the church in Jakarta to exercise regularly. Half past ten or eleven  o’ clock night time he’s back home. Max is ‘orang Ambon’. Ambon people do love singing and have a beautiful voice.

He was just unlucky. He might be prevented of a stroke if he could afford to have a medical check up. Yet, imagine, he still managed to come after this till his second stroke. 

Recently he passed away. I’ve now lost three of my best, strongest singers out of ten, two are over 80 by now. But I wont break up, leave, abandon my choir as there wont be anyone would ever like to have, take care of, love them, as they ‘re musically uneducated old agers, - worthless, trash, no future, smart people would say without saying anything - except the church would fire me. I’m happy, they, we, have got our dignity again.

When there’s only one left, we would sing together, even were there no one left, then will I still sing alone. Ha. Ha.

So assured my Choir Conductor me.

July 2013

I’ve Nothing To Mourn About

I’ve Nothing To Mourn About

When my statistics of my followers drop, decline, am I still happy when my special, most favorite followers are still there. Though were there only one, even no one left, as I yet have my silent followers, those who don’t reveal themselves. I still can win a prize in a reader’s heart. I’ve nothing to mourn about. Ha. Ha.

July 2013

 

A Good Thought, Art Is Invaluable

A Good Thought, Art Is Invaluable

Were I to send someone bananas or grapes, oranges, a special printed Happy Birthday-, Happy New Year-card, especially money, he often would thank me profusely. Were I to send him my thoughts, he would keep silent, yet, I don't want to burden him, anyone to say a polite "thank you".  A good thought is invaluable, - whoever said it - worth far more than those trifles.

Then it occurred to me that the novel, “War and Peace” of Tolstoy, so cheap the book price, the opera “Porgy and Bess” of Gershwin, so cheap the concert ticket, a painting of van Gogh, though so high its price, that art, all art is invaluable, far more than the highest price of a billion dollar painting, ...

July 2013

My Ugly Duckling

My Ugly Duckling

I’m very proud, though this is a poor recording, yet, I did it all myself without professional help. Recorded it, accompanied her, uploaded it to You Tube, exercized, trained her for years, ... 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ez25ULd7F0I

She was my Ugly Duckling. No one would like to sing beside her as she had a very shrill, unpleasant voice. And now she turns into, reveals herself as a beautiful, strong soprano singing this for the first time and reaches the high Bes note. I almost can’t believe it.

I said, that’s God’s reward, a beautiful, strong voice, for your very hard work, efforts.

She passed away about two years ago.

This is as I remember her, said  my Choir Conductor.

July 2013

 

 

I Only Sharpen It On A Whetstone Every Day

I Only Sharpen It On A Whetstone Every Day

“Pak, (man) you have a good, very sharp knife, May I buy it?”

“Oh, this is just a plain, ordinary knife. I only sharpen it on a whetstone every day. ‘Ibu’ (madam) can buy it in the ‘pasar’ (folks market place)” So said the cold-fruit vendor. How wise he is.

And I thought, what doesn’t become sharp when whetted regularly, daily, your  voice, your thoughts, your writings, your abilities, ...

July 2013

 

 

Can I Help It?

Can I Help It?

How can I love someone, I do not love?

How can I not love someone, I do love?

Can I help it? Can you forbid it?

So don’t vow, promise as you can’t keep them, except you want to become a dutiful husband. So I said to myself.

What’s the use  of being a faithful husband and wife even for life then, founded on duty, decency, vows, laws, instead of loving each other, though not everlasting.

I could love almost any woman at long last. Ha. Ha. Aren’t they each one very wonderful? But were there some women not wonderful, I am to blame, I am too stupid, blind to see.  So don’t you be jealous, you little fool,  said Opa Johan to his wife.

July 2013