Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Recipe for a Reedmaker

1 part talent
2 parts strength
Cane and thread of a considerable length

A couple sharp knives
Razor blades too
The knack for stubbornness through and through

Most importantly, 9 parts frustration
And 10 parts mad -
Now hopefully your reeds won't all be bad.

It SUCKS to be an oboist. Clarinetists think the have it bad but no, they don't even know the beginning of it. I must have been very annoyed on Monday otherwise I wouldn't have been driven to write a RHYMING poem, of all things.

Sunday, May 19, 2013

In Other Words, the Oboe

Oh my goodness, this is going to be my last concert in Vancouver for who knows how long. If you are around, please come.


Oh Maxine,

I've only met you once, and only for a few minutes, but that doesn't mean I can't be in love. You had me at first sight. I spotted you crossing the street, looking dashing in black and white. I crossed quickly behind you - I smiled as our eyes met. You approached me readily, naively, innocently, yet steadily. Your voice when you spoke was soft and sweet as a cat's meow. I wanted to hold your small slender body and stare into your large endearing eyes forever... but you saw your father approaching across the road and I had to pretend I had somewhere to go --

My dear Maxine, will I ever see you again?

                          Yours, in hopes that this will somehow find its way back to you in case I don't,

This is about a cat by the way. A cat named Maxine who I met yesterday while walking with a friend. It's basically a true story, except her father was actually rather nice and chatted with us for a while, and we really did have to run away for fear of being late to a rehearsal. Ah Maxine-the-manx-cross, you are so adorable. I nearly died from cuteness overload. Maxine, if you or your daddy are out there reading this, you absolutely made my day yesterday. I wish you all the happiness and cuteness a cat can have in her happy cat life.

Saturday, May 11, 2013


The table is set,
The board laid out,
The wood pieces thrown,
And mixed all about.

"Draw your pieces -
Begin," you say,
"You go first."
And we start to play.

The first word out:
"Sin? No, sine."
Now onto the next in line...

Oho! I wrote a rhyming poem. Aren't you proud of me? I have no idea why I suck at rhyming so much, but I do, and as a result I hate writing rhyming poetry, so I usually never do it. I'm so proud of myself today.

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Predator and Prey - a mystery by Jacqueline Wong, Ashley Tsang, and Michelle Feng

“Last month, the police force apprehended the chief suspect of the recent string of serial killings, but another person has recently gone missing. All of the victims were men in their twenties and thirties, and were last seen leaving respectable pubs after an evening of revelry. Each disappearance occurred roughly one month apart, with the first being thirteen months ago. As the death toll mounts, it seems that the police have fallen upon the wrong suspect. One can only wonder whether they are up to the challenge. This has been Bruce Navid for the Crime Radio News. Thanks for listening, we’ll be right back after a short break.”
    The jingle of the newscast played for a few seconds, before being replaced by the sound of saxophones and piano keys. “Tired after a long day at work? Settle down for a relaxing dinner at Acheron’s Kitchen, voted the best comfort food in town.” The car radio was switched off abruptly by the middle-aged man in the driver’s seat.
    “Damn,” muttered Dan as the light ahead turned yellow. “That idiot Sullivan screwed up again. Whaddya expect...” After a moment’s impatient pause, he cranked the wheel and turned into an alley instead. Three-fourths of the way along he pulled into a parking lot behind a brick building. Locking and slamming the door, he strode up to the back door.