I’m not much of a journal-diary writer and never have been. So the point of sknoblog certainly isn’t to attempt to change that. I can talk about making music, I could bore you with the intricacies of translation (and I just might), but there are many important subjects that I will in all likelihood never talk about here (basically, my personal life).
If there was any doubt in my mind about this, it was put to rest when I recently unearthed an old, unfinished « chamber opera » that I wrote over 10 years ago, called « Suicide note ». The lame premise is as follows: The curtain opens on a guy writing (singing) his suicide note. He is unhappy with the different drafts and goes on to philosophize on the nature of suicide notes, and basically spends his entire life attempting to write the perfect note.
Typical juvenile pap.
Still, I wrote the entire first act (about 25 minutes of material) and some of the music is actually quite good, although I’ve never been happy with any of the different orchestrations I’ve tried.
Anyway, to the point: « Suicide-note » includes a tune (make that an « aria ») called « The Diary Song » sung by the suicide note writer which goes like this (never got around to recording any of the voices so the lyrics will have to suffice):
Diary Song
I never understood people who write
journals and diaries and the like.
Not that I’ve ever given them much thought,
I just don’t get it, I just don’t get it
I would imagine that it would be pretty
boring and monotonous work, especially
On your average, average day week or month,
I would never be disciplined enough!
What should the average diary writer
do with the pages that he or she
has patiently gathered, day after day after
month after month after week after week?
If I relished my- lived for my past,
if I lived to write my own history,
if I felt narcissistic satisfaction
in reading my own
accounts of what
I have achieved
then I certainly wouldn’t want to commit
suicide, I wouldn’t be writing this note
bringing to a sudden end a good thing
though I’d certainly
cherish this
little episode!
Maybe diary writing is good therapy
enabling people to figure things out,
what doesn’t make sense is for people to keep
these ‘moods on paper’ though.
If you’ve finally figured things out than that’s it,
use the other side for your laundry list
And when using a notebook just tear out the pages
or wait ’til it’s full and get rid of the thing!
OK, so maybe I’m thinking out loud,
the problem is I’ve never done that before,
and it would seem to be a pretty
futile occupation, given my intention
to do away with myself very shortly!
Which segues into one of a few recurring little motifs:
Oh, why do I feel so self-conscious?
This is more than a little embarrassing
given the fact
that when I am dead
I won’t be feeling self-anything.