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I've been thinking about resuming blogging for a while now, but there never seemed to be enough time for me to sit down and make a serious go of it. On the other hand, I've made a few Ponyo icons and so, what better time and all that.
Today after being thoroughly peeved (again) at how troublesome it was to get my extremely full key holder out of my bag, I finally pruned it.
It was always a comforting weight, my key holder: it contained too many keys, at once a sign that I had had places to be and that I was too sentimental to take the defunct ones out. Two of the old keys (need to find another place to store them) once opened to a shophouse somewhere, where a teacher of mine had once taught me the guzheng. I remember that I started to learn it a few months after I started working, taking lessons from this same teacher at a community centre; for years I would not buy a guzheng because I felt... well, it was too expensive, I didn't play well, I might lose interest, it was too big, etc. Much later I began to take private lessons from him, and he set up a little school at that shophouse. So, he had copies of the keys to that shophouse school made for me.
He was found dead one afternoon by another music student. Heart attack.
I went to the funeral. His family didn't seem very interested in music; my guess was that they were going to be kept busy disposing of his musical instruments (of which he had a substantial collection). Since the next tenant that came along to that shophouse would have changed all the locks in there, I kept my keys.
Today after being thoroughly peeved (again) at how troublesome it was to get my extremely full key holder out of my bag, I finally pruned it.
It was always a comforting weight, my key holder: it contained too many keys, at once a sign that I had had places to be and that I was too sentimental to take the defunct ones out. Two of the old keys (need to find another place to store them) once opened to a shophouse somewhere, where a teacher of mine had once taught me the guzheng. I remember that I started to learn it a few months after I started working, taking lessons from this same teacher at a community centre; for years I would not buy a guzheng because I felt... well, it was too expensive, I didn't play well, I might lose interest, it was too big, etc. Much later I began to take private lessons from him, and he set up a little school at that shophouse. So, he had copies of the keys to that shophouse school made for me.
He was found dead one afternoon by another music student. Heart attack.
I went to the funeral. His family didn't seem very interested in music; my guess was that they were going to be kept busy disposing of his musical instruments (of which he had a substantial collection). Since the next tenant that came along to that shophouse would have changed all the locks in there, I kept my keys.
