A Page from Pete's Diary

Peter Ilyich Tchaikovksy (1840-1893) is one of my favorite classical composers. (N.B. to my musicological friends, I'm using "classical" in the generic, recording-industry definition). Tchaikovsky composed such wonderful masterpieces as the 1812 Overture, the Nutcracker, the Pathetique Symphony, and Romeo and Juliet. In addition to being a prolific composer, he also kept extensive diaries. I mention this, because my diary entries for this past week (if I were to keep a diary) would resemble his from 1890:

8 March Thursday. Sick.
9 March Friday. Sick.
10 March Saturday. Sick.
11 March Sunday. Sick!
12 March Monday. Sick!
13 March Tuesday. Sick!
14 March Wednesday. Sick! Disgusting to recall this time. Only today toward evening, I think, I am better, thank God!*

Fortunately, my illness has not been as bad or as lengthy as Tchaikovsky's apparently was. But neverthless, when I look back on these past few days, all I can say is "Sick!"

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*Sourch for Tchaikovsky quotes:
Wladimir Lakond, trans., The Diaries of Tchaikovsky (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1945/1973), p. 297.