When I die, instead of a funeral service, I think I would like to have an Open Sing of Brahms' German Requiem (in English, since few of my friends understand German). It should be conducted by someone with the intensely dramatic, passionate enthusiasm John Hoffacker brings to it (make sure there's nothing above him in reach). If the soloists could be as good as Justin Staebell and Kristin Morant, it would be amazing. Since I am not rich and because it's worked pretty well all the times I've done it, I'd recommend all volunteer orchestra and choir with my friends mixed in with whatever voice part they want to listen to (a hard choice since they've all got good stuff) and right up against the orchestra because that makes it even better than a recording. I might recommend Hamline United Methodist Church, which is a physically and sonically beautiful space, (and so there can be an organ). I'd like to request a harpist, too. This is what I would like because this music is so powerful that even when all the instruments aren't there, and nobody can get all the way through the end of the third movement right, and my voice is shot before we finish the rehearsal, which should ruin everything for me and make me miserable during the performance, being a part of the words and the music and the skill with which they were assembled by Brahms and pieced together by an orchestra and choir leaves me with joy, hope, confidence, and peace in the love of God and the place He's prepared for His people to rest. Those are the kinds of things I'd like people to go away from my funeral carrying.
Written by an exhausted chronic pain suffering writer who thinks too hard about things like art, anime, images, nature, books, manga, scars, quotes, music, work, authors, financial desperation, joy, beauty, humor, and whatever else catches her scattered attention.
Her blog’s name comes from the title poem of her ridiculously long thesis “I am like the moon in autumn,/ losing sleep as summer fades,” which came to her whole while she was driving home toward the moon one November early evening. (The title, not the 450 page thesis. Alas.)