I met Philip Glass tonight.
He was a very nice man to talk to, and I remember feeling completely overwhelmed when I first started talking to him. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I think it went something like this:
“Oh my god I’m your biggest fan and I can’t believe that…wow it’s really you, and I’m finally getting to meet you. I don’t even know where to begin oh I have so much to tell you and ask you and well really mostly just be able to thank you for writing such incredible music over the past half-century oh and to be still writing such magnificent pieces and soundtracks to movies (oh I was just watching The Illusionist, you know, with Ed Norton, oh of course you know what I mean is that I saw that you were the composer in the opening credits and not that I would have needed to see that–I can almost always recognize your music in film scores, even when it’s played diagetically like in this one French movie that was on tv a long time ago when I was in college…oh well look at me just rambling on like a little schoolgirl! I’m sorry.”
He just smiled, and his eyes were twinkling. “Well, I’m always happy to meet a fan–”
“Oh, I’m not just a fan, I really adore your music and especially a lot of your very older work–I know you might not like to hear this, but I have special places in my heart for the oldest works of yours that I’ve heard. They’re just so powerful even today; I put them on and they sound so fresh; so amazingly immediate even now, like that one where it’s two lines going in opposite directions what’s it called–oh and of course “Two Pages” and there’s that one with fifths (oh yea that first one was called “Contrary Motion”)…I can’t believe I’m forgetting their names now this is so embarrassing and I’m sure I must be boring you and I know you’ve long since moved on to bigger and better things…”
“No, no, I agree with you. I must admit I’m also still shocked whenever I play those pieces again (it’s rare, but we do sometimes) at how they seem to really affect a lot of people still. And yes, I’ve moved on to other things, and that was a very different period in my life, but I still have affection for it, as I can see that you do.”
“Well and really well of course Koyaanisqatsi is just a masterpiece and you know well that’s how I was first introduced to your music–it was in 11th grade in high school; I had gone to this summer program, where part of the activities included various important artistic works of the 20th century (movies, music, art, etc.) and the orchestra at the program played parts of your 2nd symphony alongside film footage from Koyaanisqatsi (well they’d already shown Koyaanisqatsi with your original score a few days ago and I’d been completely mesmerized) and it was just wonderful. And then I remember I found out about Einstein on the Beach and I managed to find a copy and…oh sorry I know I must be boring you with your own resume…”
“Ha ha ha no it’s quite okay.”
Then I had to go. Just like that, my one chance to meet Philip Glass, and I had wasted it. Like so many things in my life.
But I had to go, otherwise they would come and–
The bullet entered through my left eye, and I could feel it enter, feel it rip apart my eye, feel what it was like to be blind for one split second before the bullet exited out the back of my head, ripping open the entire back of my skull.
There was a feeling of heat.
Tags: dream, nightmare, philip glass, writing
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