Day 034: Anjali's mom comes to Vienna
36yearsago.com
Vienna 1971—A Student
Journal
A year of music, study, travel, sightseeing &
friends.
SPECIAL NOTE [2007]
“HOUSTON,
we have a problem...”
“We have a computer down; I repeat, a computer is
down...”
“Mayday, mayday...”
“911 operator: Is there a pulse? Are there any life
signs? Is it dead?...”
“Scotty, I need that computer online, now! Are there
any spare dilithium crystals around?...Captain, the
damn thing is dead. I’ll rip out the ion lithium
batteries out of my iPod and see if that can start
her up. It’s the best I can do.”
Such drama. Truth be told, my computer’s hard drive
freaked about 5 days ago and I’ve just been able to
complete the backups, buy a new external hard drive,
reinstall applications and data, and get the computer
back up today. I apologize for any inconvenience to
the readers. All five of you.
That means that I am five days behind on the blog. I
will be posting and catching up over the next few
days. I will be backdating the posting dates to
coincide with the actual calendar dates to keep the
chronology of the calendar accurate. I apologize once
again.
Back
to the journal.
Day
34 — Anjali’s mom comes to Vienna
05-September-1971
(Sun.)
TRANSCRIPT
Not a busy day.
Went with Anjali to meet her mother at the train
station. They were staying for 3 days. I had
apprehensions about going—I would be imposing. Her
mother was very pleasant and, as I expected, I felt
out of place and imposing by my mere presence.
From here on, it was (naturally) different. We tried
to make plans to meet again, but could not plan
anything definite. I hope we will meet.
Practicing [horn]. Sometimes good, sometimes not.
Not fully satisfied with playing and embouchure. I’m
not sure whether I’ve changed my smiling [horn
embouchure]) still does not look right, but I can’t
seem to change.
I just noticed that I’ve been writing this month as
August.
REFLECTIONS
Meet
the parents. Anjali’s
mom is in town, to meet her daughter in Vienna, do a
bit of sightseeing, and then wisk Anjali away to
Paris—never to be seen again.
I remember liking her mom but it was certainly
somewhat awkward and different. Our private time was
over. I don’t know if her mom knew about me (probably
did) and there was nothing that she did to cause me
to feel weird. It was just different, naturally. Not
quite as hilarious as Meet
the Parents but in the
same vein. Well, the job of mommy is to protect the
kids. I can certainly understand that.
Back
to reality. I went
back to practicing the horn later, still dissatisfied
with my embouchure (lip position) when playing.
Feelings are inside us. It is
interesting that I don’t write about what I was
feeling—about how I would feel when Anjali would be
gone. You can bet, that I was thinking about it all
the time. What am I going to do?
All you can do is make the best of any situation. In
other words, you can’t do much.
John
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