Last night I sat down without inspiration and tasked myself with writing music for the next hour. This is the result!
http://www.morbes.com/Pleasant.mp3
It is short and repetitive, but I have some ideas for completing it and would like to play the piano parts instead of writing them out to give inflection.
Enjoy!
Sunday was pretty relaxing, I didn’t sleep terribly well but I ultimately got up at 9am local time (2am CST) and was reasonably chipper.
What a pleasant view to wake up to!
The sister was kind enough to prepare Weissewurste and pretzels for breakfast and it was delicious! The white sausages had me a little apprehensive – you have to remove the skin prior to eating them – but I quickly picked up on an effective method and enjoyed the meal thoroughly. I have to admit that I struggled with the concept of beer in the morning, I only had a few sips before switching to coffee and water.
The first half of the day was relatively uneventful, I attempted to work on some music but didn’t get very far, and I typed up yesterday’s post. The day really began when we left to take the S-Bahn (train) into Munich.
I was warned when I arrived that almost all businesses are shut down on Sunday. There is no 24 hour wal-mart around the corner that you can go to when you need something. However we were lucky enough to come across a small cafe that was still open as we were walking to the train station, and we stopped for coffee. I ordered a large coffee.
And drooled over everything else.
Germans don’t know what a large coffee is. Their large cup is the equivalent of a small coffee from McDonalds. And they all look surprised when they find that I want it black. I think that what I miss the most about home is the 20 ounce cups of coffee I can get from the gas station. I am truly a stranger in a strange land.
We arrived at the train station after a short brisk walk through the bracing cold. A few people loiter around the tracks, waiting for their particular train to arrive. Across the tracks I spot a couple of younger girls in attire that I found immensely amusing:
I won't lie, I am jealous of their total lack of self-consciousness
The trains in Germany stop for what seems to be less than 20 seconds at a time, and we briskly board the train and find a seat. The ride to Munich is relatively uneventful, but I did see some interesting graffiti. It translated to the words “work” and “consume” painted over and over on the side of the tracks.
We arrived in Munich after changing from the S-Bahn to the U-Bahn (like a U-boat, it is underground!) And I have to say that the place is amazing. Grand structures that appear to date back hundreds of years are nestled comfortably next to more recent buildings, and people swarm the streets.
The gate to the city
A massive church
Hanging out with the ol' warthog. If I look cold it's because I was!
Moments later I was witness to a gruesome decapitation
A street musician with an accordian dominates the square, his passion for the instrument evident in every press of the bellows. His sound was so impressive that I am going to find a way to buy one of his CDs.
From here we went to the Ratskeller Munchen for dinner. I don’t remember the name of what I ordered and definitely can’t pronounce it, but it was delightful!
Twins! I just need a scarf. Everyone in Germany has a scarf.
Beer!
This unique dish is essentially a large potato chip filled with mashed potatoes.
At the restaurant I learned that if a person is sitting outside the bathrooms, you should tip them 20-50 cents. Not knowing this initially, I did not tip them. I am a terrible person. After we left the restaurant we took a moment to examine the Lederhosen in a shop window before proceeding to church.
How much is that lederhosen in the window? 169 euros. Ouch.
The church service was in German, and while I can understand a lot more than I can speak, it takes me some time to process what is said and translate it in my head. Germans speaking at a normal speed are far too fast for my puny mind to handle, but I did pick up on a reasonable amount of what was said. The singing was pleasant, the songs we sang were translated versions of songs I already knew so that helped. My sister enthusiastically introduced me to many of her friends, it was excellent! Unfortunately my internal clock is very out of sync right now and by 9:00PM local time (2PM CST) I was wearing out rapidly. We stopped by McDonalds for a McDouble, large coffee, and apple pie. I was starving and inhaled the burger in short order, however I was severely disappointed once again by what passes for a large coffee in Germany.
I cannot comprehend how this is a large. How big is the small?!
We proceeded to the train station and made our way back home through the increasingly biting cold. I need to invest in a scarf! I fell asleep transferring all the pictures I took to my tablet, but woke up two hours later. I seem to be incapable of sleeping for more than two hours at a time, which is why it is currently four in the morning here and I am typing this up.
In a few short hours we will again make our way to Munich, and from there we will hop a plane to London. So excited!
Germany - where the small beers are big and the big coffees are small!
I reached the the airport more than two hours early, thanks to the efforts of the younger brother (thank you sir). After calling my bank and credit card companies to notify them of my impending departure to ensure that I would be able to use their services, I walked to the McAlister’s deli inside the terminal. It was packed! I probably stood in line 10 or 15 minutes, during which time I witnessed a girl with an english accent talking on her iPhone. Her iphone case was shaped like a cartoon explosion, and had some vulgar language on the back. What was most interesting about her though was the faux-fur coat she was wearing. It had spikes coming out of the sleeves. I can’t make this up.
I would totally wear this.
After eating my light meal of chips and a hot dog I relocated to gate 9 to await the remaining hour and 45 minutes for my flight. The gate was relatively empty, and the people waiting were absorbed in their ipads and smartphones. A woman close to my age sat down across from me, I looked up and smiled in acknowledgement, but she would not even make eye contact. I retrieved my tablet and proceeded to read the news until the time came for departure.
On the flight to Chicago there was a man in slacks, a dress shirt and sweater sitting just ahead and to the right of me across the aisle. His thick framed black glasses formed a stark contrast to his pale skin, and although he had his head shaved you could tell that he was beginning to go bald. He was reading “Women are from Venus, Men are from Mars” by John Gray. My vantage point was perfect for reading over his shoulder, and I was mildly surprised by how explicit the book was. Not something I would read in public. The plane took off early and I spent the next hour staring out the window of the airplane.
We touched down in Chicago at 3:30PM. I walked off the plane, located a departure board and began to weave my way through the crowded terminal toward gate C11. Thanks to our early departure, brisk tailwind, and the efficient passenger loading of our competent airline personnel I arrived at the gate with two hours to spare. I looked into the gate at the bleak, dismal faces of the few passengers already waiting at the terminal, and decided to walk around instead. I paced up and down the length of the terminal six times. I collected a few curious looks from people in restaurants as I passed back and forth, but most people were too distracted to notice. Despite the constant rush of people I was surprised at how quiet it was. Few people were talking, the only consistent noise was the low hum of the HVAC system that lurked beneath the hurried footsteps and grinding wheels of rolling luggage. An occasional message blared over the PA system warning against accepting any luggage from other persons.
After wasting some time walking the terminal, I finally decided to sit at the gate and await my flight. I had roughly an hour and 15 minutes to go. I sat down across from a couple that I assumed were married. An empty seat between them held steaming cups of starbucks coffee, the man was attempting to read a book while the woman continued to engage him in conversation about the temperature and other inane things. As his replies continue to be short and distracted she lapses into silence, staring off into the distance. An older gentleman across and to my left is also people watching, and I catch him examining me as I am typing this on my cell phone. He probably thinks I am texting. A gentleman behind my and to my left is reading a book while digging vigorously in his nose for foreign objects. A woman sitting down the row looks at him and then down at her ipad , a smile indicating her amusement. As I am preoccupied typing on my phone, someone walks by me with enormous baggy, low hanging multicolored pants. Without looking up I made a snap judgement that it was a gangster wannabe kid, but then I caught a very strong whiff of feminine perfume. I looked up and it was a young pretty girl, very punk rock with a nose ring and some ludicrously large pants. She sat there a few minutes before getting up and heading to the McDonalds across from the terminal. The couple across from me made comments and laughed about her pants before getting up and leaving. I look further down the row to my left and see another woman, probably a stewardess judging from her dress, eating McDonalds with a look of soul crushing sadness on her face. I look across to the other end of the gate and see another man sitting with his wife. His white hair and beard completely frame his face, and seem to merge into the prominent chest hair exposed by his gaping Hawaiian shirt. My people watching is interrupted by the surprising announcement that we will begin the boarding process now in the hopes of an early departure. I make my way through the surge of people onto the airplane, find my seat and stow my carry on luggage in the overhead bin before settling in. The plane has three rows of seating, two seats on the left, three in the middle, two on the right. I am in the rightmost seat on the center row, to my right are a couple of German girls, I overhear their conversation. The middle seat next to me is vacant, and the next seat over is occupied by a German gentleman traveling with the girls to my right. The plane takes off.
I watch “Seven Psychopaths”. I watch some animated Dracula movie. I watch some TV show about investment sharks. By this point my fellow passenger in the middle row is passed out asleep, his legs stretched into the unoccupied seat between us. I decide to rest as well, and go to lean my seat back. Much to my displeasure, my seat does not budge. Fantastic. The seat ahead of me barely manages to contains the enormous frame of a man that easily outweighs me twice over. When he leans back the seat groans in protest and bumps into my knees.
I contorted myself into as comfortable a position as possible and closed my eyes.
Sleep refused to happen.
After several hours I give up on sleep and go back to watching the tiny screen in front of me. The flight attendants bring dinner and welcome cups of coffee which help to pass the hours remaining on the flight. By the time I land in Munich it is 9:30AM local time, 2:30AM CST. Despite my lack of sleep I am feeling surprisingly alert and muscle my way off the plane through the crowd of cranky, sleep deprived travelers. The sister is waiting for me when after I collect my checked bag and exit the terminal along with Mr. Brown who was kind enough to provide us a ride back to her apartment. The apartment is incredibly cool, and I am staying in the attic/loft portion. I think I’m jealous of her living accommodations!
The outside view.
We went for a walk shortly after my arrival as she showed me the town of Germering. After hours on the plane the walk is welcome, and I am still feeling very alert. We decide to dine in a Doner shop, and I partake for the first time in this delightful food. Why have I never had one of these in the US?
I was hungrier than I thought, and inhaled the food in short order. At this point I could feel the fatigue starting to settle in, and we headed home after picking up some groceries. I tried my hardest to stay awake but ultimately gave in and took an hour and a half nap. I got up for a short while, and then took another hour and a half nap. Three hours of sleep was the magic number! I was back up and good to go at 5:30PM local time, and successfully stayed up the rest of the evening talking with the sister. And drinking beer. It was excellent.
My sleep was fitful at best last night, I woke frequently as my brain attempted to adjust to the new time zone. Still I am feeling good today, I am resting up and then going into Munich this evening, London bound tomorrow!
Morbes rarely attempts to foray outside the comfortable food groups occupied by Ramen Noodles, Mac & Cheese, canned soup, and frozen entrees. Here’s why:
1. A month ago my brother and I went grocery shopping. My brother saw a large can of “Ruby Red Grapefruit Juice” and suggested that it sounded delicious and much healthier than a carbonated beverage full of high fructose corn syrup. I concurred, and we placed the large can into the shopping cart before continuing our quest to gather sustenance. When we got home, I emptied the can into a pitcher and poured a healthy serving for each of us. We both took a drink. While I’m sure that the faces we immediately made were comical, the taste was nothing short of alarmingly tart. It was beyond sour, an excruciating obstacle course for the taste buds, a mixture of despair, fear and embarrassment all embodied in taste.
A normal person would have learned their lesson, dumped the juice, and called it a day. I am not a normal person. I happened to have a can of concentrated frozen limeade in the freezer, and I deduced that adding something with sugar to the mix might make it a bit more drinkable. So we added the frozen beverage to the pitcher and duly added the requisite amount of water. After vigorously stirring the potent mixture for several minutes, I refilled our glasses and we tentatively sampled the curious concoction. It was like lemonade mixed with warheads, smarties, black licorice, and aggression. Upon the liquid first hitting the tongue, the drink simultaneously punched me in the face and the stomach. Then, while I was stunned, it swept my legs out from under me and slammed me to the floor. After that first assault though the drink mellowed out considerably, the aftertaste picked me up and dusted me off, apologized for the outburst, and offered to take me out on a date to make up for it.
We finished the whole pitcher in short order and didn’t buy another can of Ruby Red Grapefruit Juice.
2. I once read a nutrition article about adding protein powder to oatmeal for breakfast. That sounded like an excellent idea, and I just happened to have a container of instant oatmeal and a large tub of egg protein powder (whey protein powder does not agree with me, and I am not a fan of severe gastrointestinal distress). I mixed these two together and put them into the microwave for the suggested amount of time.
It turns out that you are supposed to mix the protein powder in after preparing the oatmeal. This makes a difference.
What came out of the microwave resembled an oatmeal filled poached egg. It had inflated to an alarming size and likely developed sentience during it’s irradiation. I took a spoon and attempted to stir everything up, but it had the consistency of a car tire.
I have often said that I will eat anything, but even I have standards. I dumped it and skipped breakfast.
3. Yesterday my dinner consisted of a can of green beans.
4. The day before that my dinner consisted of a can of peas.
5. This morning I prepared some grits (Add water + microwave) and ate them. Bland is an understatement, there is a more than reasonable chance that I just ate soggy cardboard for breakfast.
6. A few months ago I had some eggs that were getting ready to expire so I decided to make omelettes for my brother and myself. I stood faithfully by the stove as the eggs cooked, turned them when I felt it was appropriate, and was pleased when the task was complete so that I could eat. Despite my careful attention the results were far less than stellar. The eggs were tough, rubbery, and greasy. My brother ate half his omelette, I ate two bites. Gross.
Long story short, my ineptitude in culinary cultivation is matched only by my willingness to eat bland and unhealthy foods.
I typed this up several years ago, but for some reason I never published it. I don’t remember this specific incident, but I used to go for long walks in the dead of night fairly regularly, so I believe that it is based on (mostly) true events.
Last night I felt the need to go on a walk to clear my head, so after I got off work at 9:08 P.M. I hopped into my trusty CR-V and started driving. I cranked the subwoofers up as I left town en route to my destination. Shortly after 9:30 I arrived at the Missouri Conservation Site and exited my vehicle. I grabbed my bible from the back seat, armed the alarm on the CR-V, and made the short walk to my normal spot to sit and read. To my chagrin, the street light that normally burns at this secret location was not functioning, and while the clear sky made no attempt to mask the moon’s pale glow, it was not sufficient to read by.
This by no means discouraged me. I decided to walk the trail instead and reflect.
The flashes of a thousand fireflies showed a path into the dark woods, like the cameras of a crazed mob of paparazzi lining the red carpet. Bible in hand, I embarked upon the trail.
It was immensely peaceful. With cat-like tread I traversed the twists and turns of the trail, listening to crickets and frogs while blundering through spider web after spider web. A glance upward revealed breaks in the leafy canopy, allowing the faint glow of stars to show through. As I walked, I contemplated. What should this trail be named? The path of righteousness? The trail of the lonesome pine? The road to perdition? I eventually settled on “The Hall of Truth”. After all, it was in this darkness, in the wilderness, that a man finds himself searching his soul, exploring the truths of who he is.
A sudden rustle to the left of the trail caused me to abruptly cease my musing and immediately reassess my surroundings. I continued to walk the trail, fully aware that it is important to show no fear when dealing with predators in the wild. I scanned my peripheral vision for impending danger, primarily focused on identifying anything larger than your average reptile or primate. The rustling manifested itself again, this time to the right of the trail. My keen ears picked up the sound, and immediately synapses in my brain were fired off to assist my ears in identifying the location as “IT’S RIGHT NEXT TO IT IS PROBABLY A VELOCIRAPTOR AND YOU ARE GOING TO DIE!” and desperately set out to inform the cerebral cortex that now would be the ideal time to execute upon any number of suitable escape plans. However the electrical synapses ran into a slight roadblock in the shape of a large slot machine, labeled “FIGHT OR FLIGHT” One of the more curious synapse(s?) pulled the handle, and with some metal clattering and cheesy carnival music, the slot machine deposited an “OUT OF ORDER. PLEASE CALL SUPPORT” token into the prize slot. The synapses then squeezed past the slot machine, and consulted the mental magic eight ball in order to determine the necessary steps to ensure that I escaped from whatever lurked in the darkness with as many functioning limbs as possible . The first shake revealed an amused “Ask me Later.” The second shake provided a thoroughly apologetic “Future is hazy, try again.” The third and final shake launched the magic eight ball into a lengthy and utterly boring soliloquy from Shakespeare’s Hamlet. The electrical synapses gave up at this point and trudged back to the brain stem, informing the Adrenal Glands on the way that they might as well stop churning chemicals into the blood stream since no one was willing to make a decision and imminent death was likely. The Adrenal Glands said “Death? Might as well party until then!” and cranked up production of Dopamine to supplement the already plentiful supply of Adrenaline.
My survival instincts are pathetic losers who would rather party than make a decision.
So I continued walking on the path, still hearing the occasional rustle in the underbrush. I made it out of the woods unmolested, and breathed a sigh of relief once I was safely settled into my CR-V and driving home with the subwoofers rattling the windows of every house I passed.
What an exciting life I lead.
This morning I set my alarm for 6 AM so that I could go play racquetball with a friend. For some absurd reason my brain decided that it should become awake and alert at 5 AM instead, so I got up and played with my keyboard for close to an hour. During that time I was able to sketch out an idea of a melody that I liked.
Tonight I sat down and attempted to transcribe as much of it as I could remember. One little haunting piano section remained in my mind, and that is what I used to write this work in progress. Enjoy!
I haven’t written anything new in quite some time, this song is my attempt at sitting down and forcing myself to write. I can tell that there is no inspiration involved, but I do like the percussion and the chord changes are at least interesting.
I recently went to the eye doctor to get my glasses prescription renewed and to try out contacts. I tried contacts several years ago, but I gave up after repeatedly jabbing myself in the eye with my contact-clad finger only to have the accursed soft piece of rounded plastic fall onto the floor. However, I am now older and wiser and it seemed like as good a time as any to give them another shot.
The first step of the appointment always seems to involve jets of compressed air being blown into the eyes. They tell me it has something to do with “checking fluid pressure” in my eye, but that sounds suspiciously like something a shady mechanic would say about my car right before attempting to extort large amounts of money. Also I think it exists as an intimidation technique. No matter how much you mentally prepare yourself for it you cannot avoid jumping when that puff hits your eye. You will involuntarily jolt back an inch or two, before your resolve kicks in and you slam your forehead and chin back into the torture device. They probably record it on video and laugh about it later, then categorize each patient onto a leaderboard ranked by how high and far the individual jumped.
So after being put through the humiliating “eye pressure” test and proving that I am such a coward that even tiny jets of air scare me when I know they are coming, the actual eye doctor comes in to see me. He proceeds to place a device in front of my face while switching lenses and having me read tiny text projected on the wall.
Eye Doctor: “Which is clearer: lens 1, or lens 2?”
Me, eager to get the right answer: “Could you repeat the question please?”
Eye Doctor: “Which is clearer: Lens 1, or Lens 2?”
Me: “Can I call a friend on this one?”
Eye Doctor: “No.”
Me: “That’s cool, I don’t have any friends anyway. I’m pretty sure I saw the answer to this in a movie once. Definitely Lens 2.”
Eye Doctor, giggling in a manner not unlike that of an evil mad scientist: “HAHAHAHAHA WRONG! It was Lens 1! It looks like you’re trending to place in the top five on the patient humiliation leaderboard! You are such a noob!”
Me, trying to appear indignant while trying to hide the secret flattery that I am doing so well on the humiliation leaderboards: “This is an outrage! I will not stand for this! Are you sure I’m not top three?”
Eye Doctor, checking a chart: “Hmm. No, definitely not top three so far. We’ll keep you posted as we proceed with the exam.”
Really though, sometimes I swear they show the same lens twice in a row just to mess with you.
After choosing the lenses that seemed best the doctor took a device with a bright light and proceeded to look into my eyes, quite possibly so that he could check on the humiliation levels in my soul. Or perhaps just so he could see the shape of my eye. Both scenarios are valid. He commented on the worsening astigmatism in my left eye (something I could have told him without having my night vision ruined by a flashlight to the eye) and stated that we would have to try something different on the contacts.
At this point, having chosen the lenses that I felt best demonstrated clarity of my character, personality, and oh yeah, vision, the doctor brought me into a room and handed me two packages of trial contact lenses. I assured him that I have put in contacts before and that I can take care of this. He went to assist another patient as I set to work on the dreaded task of attaching these fixtures of visual acuity to my retinas.
The right contact went in surprisingly smoothly, on the first try! And I could actually see out of my right eye! Encouraged I set to work on the left eye. After several minutes of fruitlessly shoving a tiny piece of soft plastic onto my corneal surface, dropping the lens three times, turning it inside out twice, and some quietly uttered expletives I managed to get the second contact to adhere to my left eye, and I blinked a few times to clear the abundant tears that were attempting to soothe the indignantly irritated surface of my ocular faculties.
Much to my chagrin, I was not experiencing the success with my left eye that I had with the right. If anything my vision was degraded from wearing the lens. I sat there quietly for a moment, mentally noting that next time I should choose lens 1 and that this was definitely going to propel me to the top of the humiliation leaderboard if I had to go back through and look at the lenses again.
The doctor came back and asked if I had the contacts in. I confirmed, and mentioned the lamentable current state of affairs in my left eye. The doctor, probably pleased that he was going to have the top patient on the humiliation leaderboard, assured me that this was OK and we could try something different after he looked at my eyes and into my soul again.
As he shined the light into my left eye he commented that “Hmm, the contact is upside down, that’s strange.” Apparently the shape of my eye is so bad even contacts don’t want to hang out with it. Fortunately they had a much friendlier contact that I placed and was able to see reasonably well with!
Fast forward a few days later, I have been wearing the contacts every day, and I am getting proficient and efficiently inserting and removing the contacts. I am shocked at times when I realize that I have literally gone this long with almost no peripheral vision. Let me tell you several reasons why peripheral vision is great:
1. I was driving home from the eye doctor and realized that I had lost a significant blind spot since I was glasses-free! Normally I have tunnel vision due to my glasses effectively having blinders along each side. The car is still absolutely dangerous to drive, the sides of the car are pretty much permanent blind spots, so now that I think about it nothing has really changed. At least now I know that if I buy a car that isn’t rife with dangerous blind spots I will be able to drive safely!
2. I was at the grocery store buying a few things, and as I approached the register with my arms laden down with products, I inadvertently dropped nearly everything. With my peripheral vision I was able to perceive that the (rather attractive) cashier was laughing at my misfortune as I picked the items up off the floor. This also gave rise to the theory that there is very likely a “grocery store humiliation” leaderboard in existence, and hours are probably spent watching security footage to determine where patrons rank in relation to the best grocery store embarrassments of all time. I’m fairly certain I fit into at least the top 25 on that list, if not the top 20.
3. I was on a treadmill at the Y with a middle aged man on the treadmill to my left and a middle aged woman on the treadmill to my right. Both of them were running when I got there, and both of them were still running when I got off the treadmill and nearly collapsed into a gasping pile of oxygen deprived, rubbery muscles and sweat soaked Nike work out clothes (There is probably an embarrassment leaderboard for gyms too). However in the middle of my run I was able to utilize my peripheral vision to realize that both the gentleman on my left on the lady on the right were running in sync. Using this information I was able to adjust my stride so that I too was running in sync. This caused me great amusement until the lack of oxygen rich blood reaching the muscles in my legs forced me to slow the treadmill.
The overarching themes here are that contact lenses aren’t that bad and that peripheral vision is awesome! In retrospect I could have conveyed that with far fewer words.
For me there are few things that bring me more joy than sitting down at the keyboard, pressing the keys, and having a melody suddenly snap into clarity in my head. Working out the details of said melody and hearing it develop into a song as I write in FL Studio or play on the keyboard brings total focus and clarity, and there are times that I will completely lose track of time, spending hours on an idea. There are other times when I am completely unable to get into this zone, when a simple chord change doesn’t trigger the concept of an entire song, when I give up in frustration at my inability to flip a switch and be creative. When this happens I usually just play hymns or attempt to learn new songs by ear. Last night the creativity was triggered, it’s an amalgamation of hip-hop percussion, orchestral instruments, and piano. I tend to always fall back into this mixed genre, it just flows naturally. Listen to the work in progress below!
I was playing with chord changes last night on the Kronos and came across some sudden, unexpected inspiration. Sometimes when I sit down at the keyboard the music just flows, other times I can’t make anything happen. The music flowed last night, and while it is rare for me to include live playing in music I write there was no other way to convey the emotion of the piano melody.
Enjoy!