Besonence - n. - The transition from loudness to quietness.
Ex: The besonence in the concert hall made Jim reflect more deeply on the music he just heard.
Besonence seems to me like it could also be the way a kiss resonates with someone. Also, in music at least the word "decrescendo" (>) also means a transition from a louder dynamic to a quieter one and "sforzando" (sfz., sf. or fz.) means a sudden loud emphasis that goes quiet. This transition could also be "fortepiano" (fp.) or even "subito piano" (suddenly soft). Anyway, I like making up words and phrases, but they always seem to be crass. Like "spermjack." Spermjack - v. - The act of stealing sperm for the purpose of insemination or dissemination for personal gain or profit. Ex: I figured out why my one-night stand didn't make me wear a rubber. She definitely spermjacked me; it's no secret to all but her husband that her husband is infertile. I wouldn't feel so used if she'd only asked.
Oh, I wouldn't call myself a musician. I played tenor sax for a long time until my studies took me elsewhere and I haven't really played in years. My knowledge of dynamics and their notation comes from playing in a youth orchestra affiliated with the university in my home town. Lots of people that play music kind of eschew music theory and playing with classical music groups because it isn't "cool" but from what I see they kind of suffer for it. I can't tell you how many guitar players I've met have proudly told me that they learned everything they know without learning to read music and then proceeded to show off sloppy, sloppy songs and arrangements.
Haha, damn right. If you only know how to play music from tabs, and if you only know rhythm by "what matches the song" or "what sounds cool", you don't really know music. I started from a long classical piano background, for the first eight years of my life. I hated it, but I 100% understand the necessity of it. It was a completely solid foundation for me on sheet music, theory, etc. Overlapping with the last two years of piano, I started playing clarinet for my elementary school band, and that continued all the way through.. well.. school. I picked up how to play Oboe, Tenor Sax, Bass Clarinet, etc. all along the way from spending about a year on each. At the end of my piano career, I started learning my first guitar, the classical guitar. The classical guitar is still played with sheet music, and time signatures, all the good stuff. I went through the entire Suzuki Method the way I did for piano. If I hadn't gotten that kind of base for guitar, I definitely couldn't have taught myself "cool" music as fast as I did on acoustic and electric guitars I borrowed from my friends. Also, you have no idea how insanely awesome playing "Greensleeves" or "Bouree" on an electric guitar with a distortion pedal is. I don't see "cool" guitar players doing that! Or.. reading sheet in general. I've never written anything worth playing though. I have the theory knowledge to analyze pieces, wheel of fifth, etc. etc. but the extent of what I've written are cool guitar riffs from ear. Which I forget.
I thought so too. Turns out the singular they is relatively well-accepted.
Hi! I was just about to type a reply, but the I realized it wouldn't really add to anything. However, now that this big text box is staring at me, could I tell you a suggestion to Hubski? There should be a cancel button next to reply for when you comment. I shouldn't have to refresh to get rid of this huge text box. I wouldn't be writing this if I canceled the textbox.
Hrunty - adj. - the gurgling, productive state of one's lungs at the end of a brutal chest cold. That point at which you can feel the fluid rattle of chest-phlegm at the end of every sentence as the last air is exhaled out of the lungs. e.g. "I'm feeling a little bit hrunty today." "She still sounds hrunty. Has she been following through with her antibiotics?" It's a sad state of affairs that I experience this phenomenon often enough to have already had a word in the bag for it. In fact, I've got such shitty lungs that I have a word for every state of lung disrepair, like the Inuit are supposed to have a hundred names for snow.