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Wednesday, February 09, 2005

What is it with me and Mozart?

I think I might have some sort of pathological mental disorder. I was just listening to Vado, ma dove? as I drove home from shopping, and suddenly I was consciously overwhelmed with a desire that has simmered in some diseased corner of my brain since I was six years old: I want to screw Mozart's brains out.

I don't know why my insane sexual desire for a man 200 years dead flared up on the way home just now. Vado, ma dove? isn't exactly one of his most passionate works. I don't even know why the desire is there in the first place, but I've been plagued with it for going on 18 years now. Something about his music triggers an ache that somehow translates itself in my head to MUST ENGAGE GROIN IN PHYSICAL VICINITY OF COMPOSER.

I felt it when I was six, though not in such explicit terms. I was learning the Sonata in C (K.545) when I was consumed with prepubescent lust. You'd think I'd have grown out of it by now, wouldn't you?

When I listen to Wagner, the arousal is far more general. Mozart, on the other hand, just makes me want to root Mozart. I MUST LEARN TO HARNESS THIS POWER AND USE IT TO RULE THE WORLD. What else can I do?

I'm sick, sick I tell you.
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