I really should have my head examined. If I thought I was writing beyond my ability before, I have just officially turned the corner from pushing the envelope to flat-out ripping it to pieces. I really don’t know if I will ever be able to play this well, but it seems to be how it’s supposed to go, so I’m kind of stuck. I may thin it out at some point; I may be forced to. I hope not, but we’ll have to see. I can manage the other bits that were previously murdering me now with some practice, so …
At least the hard parts aren’t so George Winstony anymore. They sound like a chorus of hammers, which I never thought I could produce. Not play, I mean produce mentally. Compose. Something strong and with lots of cannons and fireworks. Even if I can’t play it, I’m glad I could dig that out of my subconscious. I was worried that I was one of many easy-listening indie-classical pianists who would spend my life writing background fluff. This isn’t background fluff. It’s pretty insistent.