This was recorded by the Portsmouth Sinfonia in an experiment where all the members of the orchestra would swap instruments with each other and attempt to play them to the best of their ability.
favorite things about this
literally all the brass starts to get the hang of it and then the crescendos happen and everyone is like FUCK FUCK FUCK??? FUCK. JUST. BLOW RLY HARD.
the strings are lazy but also the same. like u can tell a lot of the ppl w/ the stringed instruments may already basically know how to play stringed instruments. like there’s definitely a section at the beginning where you hear a good portion going “oh yeah this is like. a smaller/bigger version of what i do.”
all you hear of any woodwinds is just “pffffttt??? pFFFTTTT???? PFFFFFTTTT I SAID PFFFFTTTT!!!!!” bc woodwinds are fucking HARD and you hear after like the first crescendo half of them just give up. they give up. they’re done. fuck this it tastes weird and my lips hurt.
that trumpet. that person is fucking TRYING man they fucking GOT this. they may not have figured out notes but they figured out LOUD and they GOT this.
-you smell different when you’re awake -please help me (then smile as if nothing happened) -soon -you have lovely skin, I can’t wait to wear it -your hair tastes like strawberries -tonight….you. -he knows, don’t go home. -I always knew you would die in my arms -every time I poop I think of you -no one will ever believe you -yessssssssssssss -I killed mufasa -I bet you didn’t feel me lick your ear -mother told me it would be like this
I took my girlfriend to an improv show the other night and during intermission we were passionately arguing over whether half a 5 Hour Energy shot would give you 2.5 hours of energy or 5 hours of half-assed energy so we turned around to ask the opinions of the three people behind us and one of them said “Are all your arguments like this because we heard you in the lobby earlier fighting over the right way to pronounce ‘egg’?”
tbh most of what i got out of tfios was that gus built up this huge persona of corny bravado to try to romanticize his own life as a desperate attempt to deal with the temporary nature of existence but cancer don’t give a shit if you sound like…
do not fall in love with people like me. i will take you to museums, and parks, and monuments, and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth. i will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. and when i leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people.
i can’t even appreciate the beauty of the sunrise after staying up all night because it’s just like. fuck. there it is. there’s the sun. i fucked up. why am i laughing. nothing is funny. the sun is there and it’s harshly reprimanding me for being awake all night. “this is the life you’ve chosen for yourself fucker” it says. i’m not laughing. i’m crying. there’s the fucking sun
is there anything weirder than waking up after a dream and all the details are still fresh in your mind so you’re just like what the FUCK WAS THAT WHY DID I THINK THAT WAS NORMAL HOW DID DREAM ME NOT QUESTION THAT
I once had a dream in which someone asked me “how can you tell this isn’t a dream” and I was like, “of course it’s not a dream: I have four hands”
THE REASON I GAVE FOR THINKING THIS DREAM WAS REALITY WAS THE FACT I HAD TWO EXTRA HANDS
how can u say u are not pretty when u are a cluster of stardust, a walking explosion of nebulas like there are constellations that knot your arteries together, you’re beyond pretty, more like a spectacular sight for all of us