Senseless

Senseless

A man is lying down (lying down) on the pavement
/ no fear/ no worries/ no anticipation/
"who is he?" "what is he doing?"
"a beggar?" "a pauper?" "a homeless?"
"what is the problem?"
no one stops to look at him
(he is still lying.)
                                                       San Lin Tun

*repetitive/rhythmic experimental poetry (RRE poetry)

A Strolling Thought

A Strolling Thought

            He wondered what he ought to write down. Did illogical sentences come out as before? Then, he would be criticized again. Actually, he had been studying properly; but, the difficult thing was that he did not know what he would like to write.

            There is a saying which goes "Being ignorant is more difficult than having nothing". It is true; it is better not to own anything, because if one knows nothing it is a real dilemma. Today age is the knowledge age. One would be left behind if one cannot keep up with the age. Therefore, he read any sort of books. But, he could not satisfy with his own knowledge. And, he thought he still needed to be fulfilled.

            Some of his colleagues advised him that only when he knew everything and started to write down, he would be old enough. Their advice was laudable. He accepted them. But, there was one thing he had accepted that it was indispensable one should know one's art very well like filling up one's stomach.

            So, he tried to write gingerly whatever he wrote, from words, the syntax, the themes, everything he tried to manage to put them together not to be needy. He tried to choose desirable words, then, he used them. He studied distinctively what kinds of diction use in what kinds of society or communities. What was that? A slang, a colloquial, a dialect, an euphemism, and a derogatory, etc.

            Next, the syntax which is consistent with the themes, for an active situation, he uses short sentences orderly and successively; so also, for a series of events and exposition he uses longer sentences. He was accustomed to them and became habitual about it. But, the difficult thing was sometimes he could not find the theme he would write this time.

…

            So, he had read about it in a book. It was "The scariest thing for a writer is a blank sheet of paper". It was true. It might be like someone who is afraid of ghosts, when he watches a horror film, his face becomes pale, a writer who though has an idea in head, but does not know what he writes on paper and nothing comes into his head, the latter is worse than the former.

            He stopped wandering. He reviewed many popular subjects and literary forms from rhetoric texts he had read. He sat at a writing desk nonchalantly. Before him sprawled blank sheets of paper and a pen. He looked like an entrepreneur was about to embark on a business. In business, Kamma is crucial. Every risk causes excitation, right?

            People really enjoy excitement. Look at those who ride roller-coasters or faris wheels in parks. Some engage in extreme activities like a free-fall from the hills, and bridges or playing acrobats, etc.

…

            Oh, a piece of idea rushed into his head. It was the beginning of inspiration. Later, the themes to be written will be lighted. He felt happy. And he satisfied himself a bit. His studies would not become useless then. One way or other he uses them. He must use his art for his own existence. Then, he could stand as a human being.

…

            Another difficult thing became "the title".  He was at a loss giving a name to a short poem.   He read it, he measured it with checklists. It contained images, tight words, good and reflects the age. Read it, and he smiled. In fact, he wrote it from his feelings. He wanted others to feel like him. He is an expressionist.

…

            He looked up at a clock on the wall to know the time. It said: 4: 30. This time, he went out for a cup of tea. He read the poem again. He could not think out its title. He knew a man is a victim of habit. This time he did this. So, he has to do it. It is natural.

 

…

            He picked up a shirt and wore it. Before he left the room, he stacked the sheets of paper neatly. Beside them lay an untitled poem and a blue pen. He looked at them thoughtfully. Then, he closed the door carefully, and left. When he felt vexed, he knew what he should do.

            It was that to drink a cup of tea or to take a stroll.●

                                                                                                                      written by San Lin Tun

Glossary

Kamma an action or a result one gets from one does.

(A short story extracted from the short story collection titled ''A Classic Night at Cafe Blues and Other Short Stories.)

Time

Time       

Time gradually moves on, gradually moves on, (moving on). Is it a gradual moving or coming nearer? It’s true it is moving. The truth is that it is doing. The truth is that it is standing. Standing, going and moving- these processes, (processes), who will come to look at them? Ask about that and give an answer back. That’s (it). Stopping is for going. Going is for stopping. Stopping is for working. These are for (everything).

*Repetitive/Rhythmic Experimental Poetry (RRE poetry)

Green Grass in the Pink Plain (A Short Story)

Green Grass in the Pink Plain

Green grass survives in the pink plain. A constant breeze is blowing gently across it. Such a splendid scene to watch! Whenever the breeze comes across it, the grass is swaying gently.

                                              ‘‘Zee…zee…zee…zee…zee…zee…zee’’

The buzzing sound appears without stopping. A little bee transgresses into the pink plain. Maybe it likes to find food. Its food is nectar. It is flying over the grass, wandering here and there.

‘‘Wow! This place is really nice. But I can’t find any flowers that can give nectar I want. So, it’s no use finding food here. But, I want to enjoy its beauty,’’ mused the bee.

                                                ‘‘Zee…zee…zee…zee…zee…zee…zee’’

Finally, the flying sound of the bee diminishes into the distance.

…

Before much time has passed, there comes another sound.

                                    ‘‘Stomp…stomp…stomp…stomp…stomp…stomp…stomp’’

A farmer with a long boot approaches the edge of the plain. There are several lines on his face that show how old he is. He is carrying a rake on his shoulder. The hands that are holding the handle are really strong.

From the edge he looks into the plain.

‘‘Huh, Green grass!’’ He looks at it thoroughly. Then, a smile appears in his face. He inhales deeply. The cool breeze is coming across the grass as he puts down the rake from his shoulder. ‘‘What a pleasant smell! Is that a present from nature?’’ exclaims the farmer.

Suddenly, he remembers his wife and children who are waiting for his return. He picks the rake again and prepares to step towards the farm house. He braces himself up and goes back home. He does not go into the plain but he turns his head over his shoulder to glance at it.

…

A shadow can be visible from the distance. Not quite distinct. It was coming nearer to get more distinct. Is he a traveller? He cannot be the one. There is a camera hanging around his neck. He also has a hat on. He is the third man who has come to the edge of the plain.

When he reaches the edge, he senses the eccentricities of the place. ‘‘Oh! The plain is pink. But the grass is green. This plain is extraordinary,’’ remarked the man.

He takes out a book and writes down the geography of the place carefully. He looks out into the plain. He takes pictures of it from every corner and every perspective. He enters the plain and surveys the grass. ‘‘It is normal. Only the plain is extraordinary,’’ said the man.

An idea comes into his head. But he cannot find any solution to it. He needs to ask his friend, the painter. Because the mix of colours is not his cup of tea, only his friend can know the meaning of colours. When you mix pink and green, what colour will you get? When I meet him, I’ll ask him. He studies the plain thoroughly and then, leaves.

…

When a city man relates about the pink plain and the green grass to another fellow man, the latter thinks deeply and says, ‘‘It’s ridiculous. Nonsense. It is out of logic.’’ He denies, ‘‘this is a nonsense proposition’’. He does not accept it. Actually, he is a pragmatic. The first city man thinks that the only way to prove him the existence of the plain and grass is to bring the man there.

Logically speaking, how does the grass grow in a pink plan? It happens through nature. Then, let him ask a question. The first city man who relates about the plain says that his words are true. So, he proposes his supposition.

‘‘Ok! Suppose this proposition is impossible. But I believe it. What will you say of Darwin theory: Men are descendants of the monkey? Do you accept the fact?’’ asks the first city man.

 ‘‘I agree, of course, because the majority accept it,’’ replies the pragmatic man.

‘‘Ok. Let it be. Then, I’ll say one thing. Suppose monkeys live up in the trees. Because they are descending from the trees, they become human beings. Or if the monkeys on the trees are the origin of species, then human beings must live on the trees.’’

The pragmatic man stares at the man, and he murmurs, ‘‘Hmmm, nonsense, it’s rubbish!’’

The first city man who says about the plain feels contended with his hypothetical explanation. You might wonder if he is an environmentalist or an ideologist or a philosopher.

But, the plain really exists. The bee knows it. The farmer knows it. The journalist knows it. The first city man who tells about the plain knows it. The pragmatic man who cannot accept the existence of the plain knows it.

Then, how many people know about it?

Let it be. It is true that there are few who accept it.

Consider it. What about the pink plain and green grass? Can they change colour or can they still be the same?

The real predominant factor of the world is changing. Pink can become green. Green grass can become pink. But there is one thing for you. If you want them to believe your story, you yourself must be a writer. If not, no one can say such a thing.●

(Extracted from ‘‘A Classic Night at Café Blues and Other Stories by San Lin Tun)

When Oboe Meets Piano: Arnaldo De Felice and Alberto Firrincieli

The Concert “When Oboe Meets Piano”

Entwining Wind and String Instruments

Once W.A Mozart said, “I pay no attention whatever to anybody's praise or blame, I simply follow my own feelings”. In this sense, music relied on feelings and evoked them. It was true with the concert “When Oboe Meets Piano” which was staged at Chartium Hotel on 31st, January of 2020 from 7 pm onward.

Many people were present at the marvelous musical concert of the two maestros. It was orchestrated by the cultural programme of the Embassy of Italy for 2020 which would be starting in full swing with the first concert of this year. 

 The embassy invited an exciting joint “travel” by oboist Arnaldo de Felice, who gave his first solo recital when he was 15 and performed in several prestigious venues such as Carnegie Hall in New York, and pianist Alberto Firrincieli, who is back again in Yangon to entertain Yangon’s audience. Both artists are also music composers; Maestro de Felice played his own “Medusa”.

When the event opened, the ambassador of Italian Embassy, Mrs. Alessandra Schiavo spoke of the event and upcoming event at Italian Embassy on Feb 23^rd. She invited everyone to take part in that Italian gourmet event too.

After that, the two great maestros started to play their respective songs wonderfully. They played Concerto BWV 974 which was arranged for piano and oboe, Oblivium of A. Piazzolla (1921-1992), Medusa for Oboe solo, Sonata C 88 in C major of D.Cimarosa (1749-1801) for piano solo, Sonata in F minor of D. Scarlatti (1685-1732) for piano solo, “Capriccio” Op. 80 of A. Ponchielli (1834-1886) for oboe and piano and “Mission” of E.Morricone (1928) for oboe and piano.

The tunes and melodies produced by the two instruments were so pleasant, depicting the high and low notes and tunes so that the tunes were fluctuated with emotions and sensations. While listening to the music, one’s mind was drifted away with those charming tunes until the music reached its finale and clapping from the audience exuded wholeheartedly.

The pleasant tunes of oboe were very much tantalizing to the ears of the music lovers because of the skillful touches of Maestro de Felice. When he sustained the notes and slurred, they expressed very well in terms of musical sublimity. Maestros, pianist and oboist played the tunes so smoothly and precisely and with much dexterity and skills they needed for musical performers.

 It was really much uplifting and satisfying to enjoy the whole evening with them at the venue. They showed their musical expertise so well that people were really much engrossed in their entertainment. The oboe, with its rich harmonics in the upper range, has a timbre which was well controlled by Maestro de Felice.

In fact, the oboe is chiefly a melody instrument, being pastoral by nature and it has full of tenderness. Sometimes, its notes can cause a certain degree of shrill and so one needs a proper manipulation not to compel it a passionate cry or a powerful outburst of pitch. Then,  its small, bitter-sweet voice becomes tame and will exhibit something sublime.

Some people noted that both instruments brought relief to the heart and soul of them and the oboe is one of the oldest, and one of the most deeply sympathetic, perhaps because the lips of the player touch the reeds directly. It was true that the oboe's repertoire as a solo instrument was much to treasure, much to adore and much to console. 

Classical music magically worked very quickly when things were right for them. Even if you align your breathing to the music's beat, your mind will be free to observe its flow and it was the best cure for serious stress and granted prolonged relaxation and rest.  

 The two Italian musicians entertained the audience with beautiful pieces ranging from Scarlatti and Cimarosa (XVII and XVIII centuries) to Piazzolla’s tango (with the great “hit” “Oblivium”) and the contemporary film scores by the most acclaimed composer Ennio Morricone, whose unforgettable music has been reused countless times for TV and in movies.

The entrance was free. On the 1^st of February the two Italian musicians would also give a Masterclass to music students at Gitameit as part of the initiatives undertaken by the Italian Embassy to continue supporting the development of capacities of Myanmar youth also in the music field.●

San Lin Tun is a freelance writer of essays, poetry, short story and novel in Myanmar and English.