Fugato

My style of locomotion for most of the first run down the mountain

Just went snowboarding for the first time in my life.

Hated it.

And then loved it, once I started to get a wee bit of the hang of it.

The first run down the mountain was a 30-minute prolonged embarrassment. Went up alone because I took time renting a board, so none of the friends were there to tell me how to go about it — it was self-study all the way down. Probably about 5-10 metres between falls, on average. That gets really irritating!

The rest of the runs went better and better. And on each fall I was rewarded with a gorgeous starry night sky, with a strong aurora borealis most of the time (only green, no purple). But oh, the feeling of starting to “get it” … love that, as well as all that outdoorsy goodness. Biting cold, but so invigorating.

Great night. And given the way my muscles and tendons feel now, I’m expecting hellfire and damnation from my sensory neurons tomorrow.

Here is a remarkable quotation from a recent New York Times article:

“The comment may sound a bit whimsical, but it’s literally true that the leading cause of death on death row is old age.”

— Ronald M. George, the chief justice of the California Supreme Court.

The difference, then, between death row and a life sentence is that in the former, it is conceivable that — through some random glitch in the bureaucracy, I suppose — the prisoner may really get executed at some point in his lifetime.

Why not just skip the whole idea then? Death row is more expensive per prisoner anyway.

Granted, Justice George was referring to the California Death Row specifically. Executions may well proceed more enthusiastically in, say, Texas. But even there, a death penalty case is still three times as expensive as a 40-years-in-prison case.

So what’s the point?

“Applaud!”

Well now, that was fun! Glitches here and there as expected, but overall good fun.

The feeling of walking onto stage in front of an audience … I had forgotten about that. It’s a remarkable blend of excitement and lamb-to-the-slaughter dread. Great kick!

Another thing I had forgotten: it’s all over incredibly quickly. Before you even know it. And at the end, even though you’re getting “off the hook” … you’re still sorry it’s over. An odd feeling.

I was told the critic of Iceland’s premier newspaper was there with his notepad. Whoops. It was an amateur concert … hope it’s not going to get critiqued as a professional one!

Played piano on TV this morning. Fun! My hurtling rise to stardom has begun. Oh yes. I can feel it going to my head already.

And tomorrow (Thursday) is my concert, at 12:15 in Tónlistarskóli Garðabæjar. I trust my readership will show up en masse! I’m playing Bach, Chopin, Scriabin, Khatchaturian, Shostakovich, Debussy, Rimsky-Korsakov and Monk.

Wow. Even I wouldn’t put it that strongly (mostly for fear of pointlessly insulting friends whom I won’t be able to persuade anyway), but Lucy Mangan nails it. Oh, how she nails it. Arrogant, sure, but hey … it’s astrology she’s talking about. It doesn’t get any more fair game than that.

“You should be stripped and burned at the stake of commonsense. I will stoke the fires with Jonathan Cainer horoscopes ripped untimely from the Daily Mail, and as the flames lick ever higher, I will suck the smell of grilled moron greedily down into my lungs.”

C’mon Lucy, tell us how you really feel. No need to hold back.

In contrast, I have spent this whole week blowing the smell of damned flu up out of my lungs. No doubt that’s because Venus is in the third house of Sagittarius or something. Next season I promise I’ll remember to get the flu shot in time.