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Erhu

Two things, one that listening to House of Flying Daggers is driving me mad. I cannot think of anything but the erhu when I hear it, and I become dumb to all other things. One thing that occurred to me this morning is that I learned to play the piano because I love music, but I want to play the erhu because I love the erhu. It seem like more than a vessel for music, but an end to itself. I am so filled with passion for it I want to place my ad for a teacher this very day, but I feel my life is still too hectic, and I need to prepare a place in my time for the lessons.

The other thing is that I am declaring with finality that if I don't settle on a single story and finish I will never be published. I have had such a heart for Viktoria's Dance and Windflowers but I must remind myself that every day I mourn and lament because I am caged. If I send off my completed novels and at least try to be published I will feel a little better about my windowless prison. I can still conceive Viktoria and Katrina and write for them, but I must commence The Glass House. It is my first and finest novel.

An erhu song is playing now in SP and it is affecting me. I am having a lovesickness.

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