rocketmanallen
New member
I offer this up as proof of my work. It's a complex machine, belts, motors and pullies...a work in progress, but a work that Sir Frederik would be proud to be associated with.
Dear Sir Frederik...
- Thread starter rocketmanallen
- Start date
I offer this up as proof of my work. It's a complex machine, belts, motors and pullies...a work in progress, but a work that Sir Frederik would be proud to be associated with.
rocketmanallen
New member
Rather actually, no. If The "Queen" wishes to entitle a person with "Sir" thats fine by me...on the other hand, if I myself choose to entitle a person with "Sir" thats of my own accord and none of her damn business.
intet_at_tabe
Rear Admiral Appassionata (Ret.)
Rachmaninoff :tiphat:
A small misconception, perhaps. That´s what every male between the age of 14-116 expect to hear. If not the flag will go down.
jeane
New member
Dear Mr. Magle.
For a few days I entered your website and I'm very interested in your music. I'm studying organ music at university, so I try to find some scores. One of your music-pieces - "Light on your path" - it's wonderful. Do you have it's pdf file? I would like to try playing it.
Please, you could write me on [email protected] THANK YOU
For a few days I entered your website and I'm very interested in your music. I'm studying organ music at university, so I try to find some scores. One of your music-pieces - "Light on your path" - it's wonderful. Do you have it's pdf file? I would like to try playing it.
Please, you could write me on [email protected] THANK YOU
Hi Jeane, I'm in the middle of finishing the 3rd movement of a work that will be performed on June 10th, but I will try to get back yo you as soon as possible.
Regards,
Frederik
jeane
New member
John Watt
Member
Not sex, but boat-watching. During a long distance bike-hike, I stopped at the observation deck at the top of the Thorold locks, not knowing it was the first day of the shipping season. There was a man looking around 40, much taller than my six feet, very burly, with scruffy curly blonde hair, who I thought looked babyish. When he approached me where I was sitting, I thought my meditation was going to take a hit.
But he asked me if I saw a boat coming up riding along the canal, and I had to say no. He looked downcast. I asked if he was waiting for someone, but he said he was from Niagara Falls and there to see some boats. They're always impressive, but I get more of a kick getting into the locks and letting my hand touch the boats as they pass, more of a strange sensation than you might think. The boats are built to fit these locks so tightly they are less than six inches from the sides. Sometimes, I'm letting the palm of my hand rest on the boat, the moving wall of steel, and I can't feel it moving.
This gentleman got chatty, starting to talk about music and singing some parts, rolling up his sleeves. This threw me off. I didn't know what to think, especially about the parts he was singing. I asked him if he was a musician and he said he was an organist playing pipes in a church, his job. Suddenly, I was thinking Corno Dolce, and warmed up to him right away. He asked if I wanted to sit in his car and listen to a tape he made, so I said sure. I could have become reluctant, but when I saw the music, banking and other papers on the seat and scattered around the back, I felt at home. The next thing you know we're sitting there in the sun, pipe sounds blaring a little with windows down, him punctuating the air with his fingers and singing along, sometimes, while I just sat and thought this is going to be one of my favorite rest stops for the day.
Because Corno Dolce became an interior email friend right away when I signed up here, I have some knowledge of classical pipe works, and kept up a credible conversation, along with my own musical thoughts and singing some phased in parts like Jimi would have done, and adding trails of notes to what I heard as an empty passage.
The boat was gone, the man and woman who pulled up in different cars and sat together, talking, talking loudly, then the woman crying and the man leaving, were both gone. We went through two cassette sides, but no boats. But this didn't make it an empty passage. My heart was full in a pipe organ kinda way. Not navigation sounding for depth, but pipe organs sounding my mind. That buzzy, distorted and raunchy chord sound, gnarling and gnashing at you. Jimi, I should have listened to Wagner when you talked about him in the 60's, and took that picture of you playing an electric organ, squinting with that ciggie smoke in your eyes, more seriously.
All Deference For Our Musical Host of Hosts, Jubal.
as always, John Watt.
But he asked me if I saw a boat coming up riding along the canal, and I had to say no. He looked downcast. I asked if he was waiting for someone, but he said he was from Niagara Falls and there to see some boats. They're always impressive, but I get more of a kick getting into the locks and letting my hand touch the boats as they pass, more of a strange sensation than you might think. The boats are built to fit these locks so tightly they are less than six inches from the sides. Sometimes, I'm letting the palm of my hand rest on the boat, the moving wall of steel, and I can't feel it moving.
This gentleman got chatty, starting to talk about music and singing some parts, rolling up his sleeves. This threw me off. I didn't know what to think, especially about the parts he was singing. I asked him if he was a musician and he said he was an organist playing pipes in a church, his job. Suddenly, I was thinking Corno Dolce, and warmed up to him right away. He asked if I wanted to sit in his car and listen to a tape he made, so I said sure. I could have become reluctant, but when I saw the music, banking and other papers on the seat and scattered around the back, I felt at home. The next thing you know we're sitting there in the sun, pipe sounds blaring a little with windows down, him punctuating the air with his fingers and singing along, sometimes, while I just sat and thought this is going to be one of my favorite rest stops for the day.
Because Corno Dolce became an interior email friend right away when I signed up here, I have some knowledge of classical pipe works, and kept up a credible conversation, along with my own musical thoughts and singing some phased in parts like Jimi would have done, and adding trails of notes to what I heard as an empty passage.
The boat was gone, the man and woman who pulled up in different cars and sat together, talking, talking loudly, then the woman crying and the man leaving, were both gone. We went through two cassette sides, but no boats. But this didn't make it an empty passage. My heart was full in a pipe organ kinda way. Not navigation sounding for depth, but pipe organs sounding my mind. That buzzy, distorted and raunchy chord sound, gnarling and gnashing at you. Jimi, I should have listened to Wagner when you talked about him in the 60's, and took that picture of you playing an electric organ, squinting with that ciggie smoke in your eyes, more seriously.
All Deference For Our Musical Host of Hosts, Jubal.
as always, John Watt.