Cheerful fumbling

Cheerful fumbling It’s a damp early morning, the house clearly recalls the past hot day better than the cooler night. I’m playing a four chord song on my piano: my voice leading is clunky, the rhythm is uneven, and I couldn’t be more pleased to spend five minutes like this, skill-taste gap be damned. Even though I’ve played piano and other instruments in the past, it feels like starting over again. They say that to be an expert at anything, you need to practice for 10.000 hours. Well, I’ve only got 599.995 more minutes to go then, how about that? I’ve been listening to music more often again recently: long covid won’t stop me!! Okay, it actually will stop me after a few songs, but it feels so good nonetheless. The music fills spaces inside me that had run so dry, I had completely forgotten they ever existed in the first place. It won’t heal me, but it is making me more whole. I’m fully in my Lizzy McAlpine era now. Has it made me melancholic, or do I turn to the music that fits my…