Valentina Lisitsa in New York, 2008.
(NY Times photo.)

You know with regard to pianist Valentina Lisitsa, who I have talked
about a lot on this blog, a friend of mine tells me that I am in love
with her.

But I don't think so. Consider this, if you will, written a few weeks
ago while I was listening to Valentina's Chopin Etudes DVD:

I love you, I worship you, I adore you. I would
travel thousands of miles to hear you play if I
had the means. I would sing your praises and break
out the brace of pistols and defend you to the
death before all detractors. I would keep you away
from sharp knives, and polish your piano. I would
throw down my coat for you before a muddy pool —
never mind how much I love my coat. I would write
sonnets to you — I will have to put up a post-it
note to do that sometime — praising your golden
hair and your medieval eyes and your, uh, baby
grands. I would play the gallant before you and
remove my hat and bow and kiss your oh-so-talented
hands. I would laugh at your laughter and cry with
your tears. I would run to the convenience store for
you at midnight — assuming I had a moped, which I
don't. I would walk your dog and feed your ducks.
I would proofread your program notes and wipe out
all typos with a vengeance. I would hit conductors
over the head with a bat — and I mean a real live
bat — if they did not agree to your tempos. And most
of all, besides all that, I would listen to you play.
Even if I was sailing off the Earth and through the
stars. Which I suppose I will do, sooner or later.

Okay okay, I admit that I might have mentioned the Love word somewhere
in all of that. But I think that's just a metaphorical type of thing, yeah?
I'm just sayin'….

Oh boy, I sure hope Valentina never sees this post… :p