sanura: (Default)
( Dec. 6th, 2016 11:30 pm)
I was just telling my mom the other day, in anticipation of bringing two nonmusician friends and an aunt who has sung in church choirs to the Symphony Christmas Pops she got us comps for, that "music getting me into the Christmas spirit" is not really an attribute that I contain at this point in my life. She agreed. It's a bit of a job. I've been doing it for over ten years. Maybe fifteen. Not that I didn't enjoy the symphony concert, or bringing my friends to it, or hearing Jessica and Santino Fontana; I did. I liked the new pops conductor, and approved of both his conducting and his charisma, though I was sorry to see Krajewski go. It's just not really in me to hear Christmas music without analyzing and/or comparing it to my fairly extensive experience.

Tonight I heard the King's Singers' Christmas show. I actually skipped a concert-week pre-dress-rehearsal to go.

It's not that I forget what it's like, though of course the experience is never as immediate in memory. I just can't continually reexperience the memory. There is nothing like knowing what you are doing, to a fairly high degree, and watching people do it who are pretty nearly the best in the world at it. All these things, that you know are hard, you know exactly how hard, from personal experience, and they're executed flawlessly, or with tiny, generally-imperceptible flaws you know the difficulty of masking and have known yourself to share, and you never have to worry that the pitfalls you know are in the music or the text will catch them, and you never have to worry that they won't make it to the end of the phrase, and you never have to worry that the cold you can tell someone is nursing will overcome their balance in the mix, and every other bar there is a feat of ensemble or individual musicality of a depth to make you sigh and slouch in your chair with sheer relief of musical tension, except that you know more moments are coming, the entire performance is made of them, and if you move you might miss one.

It's not that it's Christmas music, though I do think the 2006 Christmas album is among their best ever, and I am therefore sentimentally attached to every piece of repertoire on it (three of which they did tonight). But the commitment of performers to the premise of any performance will improve my relationship to it, whatever it is. And there is an awful lot of high-quality concentration of arrangers, composers, and poets on the subject. I do feel more Christmasy now. But I feel even more King's Singersy, which is an even rarer and more special occasion.

They stayed after the show to greet and chat, and were immensely sweet and gracious as usual. We introduced ourselves to the new soprano. My mom grabbed a Typical Parent Embarrassment opportunity with both hands, in the middle of explaining we were summer school attendees, when she realized she had literally said we were "camp followers", to say, you know, if she had the chance... Hopefully Pat will not hold it against us. I am not sure he knew how to react. Julian, whom we'd met in Dallas, has grown into the tenor spot admirably, and was sweetly shy when I told him so. Johnny, Tim, Gabbitas, and Bruiser were all appropriately excited for me when I pointed the overleaf to them. Because, look:

As I said to them, "feel free to scribble on yourself. That's you... and this is me." Bruiser and Johnny in particular were excited that it was this coming weekend, and asked me to point myself out despite the tiny size of the choir in the photo, and asked what the rep was. They were appropriately enthusiastic for Ceremony of Carols, and I told them a little bit about Dominick to explain the premiere of his men's Verbum Caro Factum Est.

They are sweet as I remember them, and even sweeter Tim, whose new kid has perhaps mellowed him a little bit (and given him something to talk about with my mom). It makes a difference in the performance, when the guy at the end throwing faces at you thanks you after the show for being there to throw faces at. One more exemplar of my heroes being real humans and that making them even better heroes.

I don't know if you guys know the premise of telephone poetry, but you sit in a circle and write a line, pass it to the next person, and they fold it over and write the next line, and every time you pass you fold it over so only the previous line is visible. Here are my favorite examples from this evening's exercises.

Your carbuncle is oblong, my frangible queep
Yet I zither and hither, beyond your sleep.
My brain works overtime
And my thoughts are so sublime
What would happen if you put the coconut in the lime?
Disaster would rain upon this blasted earth.
For truly, what is such filth worth?

They walk as if their shoes have wings
But Mercury had fleeter heels
Than those of Zeus
Hercules isn't strong enough
It's made of tougher stuff,
And I know that it will never fail
Despite any negative preconceptions I might have.

No one is as alone as she thinks
Actually, she is even more so because life is pain.
As it seethes through her frame, she writhes in distress.
The caterpillar transforms
The cocoon lies dormant
Under a blanket of cushioning leaves
Which were rated highly by all IKEA customers.

The evening sun beams brightly through the trees
Oh Lord, there are no bees!
The trees can't make it without them.
The bees, they buzz eternally
And they always try to string my knee
With all their woeful weapons to my sorrow--
Will there be a tomorrow?

Woe is me; ice cream up to my knee caps.
It is so cold, I should run laps!
The cold brings on the onset of the season of ginger snaps!
As well as that of the bandersnatch
Yet when the wind whips 'cross my face
I wear a ski mask going downhill
And a veil back up.

Thinking of tigers breaks the silence
And lions cause turmoil
The leopards were in an uproar while the lizards were in a downpour
And the torrents disturbed the wild boar, but that we could safely ignore (NOT!)
We knew we were doomed, so we froze in fear
The whistling terror, drawing ever near
Grabs everyone's attention.

Antelopes and cantaloupes swish;
They shall grant my fondest wish:
A fish filet in Satan's dish
Can be the most amusing pie
Pecans are not very funny, but pumpkin is;
They are both great pies,
But one of them is full of lies.

As I guzzle pails of lard
In the chicken yard
I'm feelin' sad
Not happy or glad
But ever so dadly
As he is wont to do
But never did, through and through.

Encroaching fog from evening gloom
Creeps ever nearer to your doom.
Your doom is never too far off
Watch out! Better not cough!
Sensitive noses can't handle it.
The stench is so overbearing;
It's stronger than all their herring.

The blood of the Titan drips off of the sword's blade
As a gentle breeze wafts among the Hessians.
My eyes, they flit t[w]o and fro [sic]
In search of what I'll never know
Beyond the confines of my brain
The  world is so very plain.
We should paint rainbows everywhere.

The bear slumbers and snores
His stomach rumbles and roars
Much like a dinosaur's
It's even greater than before
To infinity and beyond
Yet never sideways
But always on top!

Although it is hotter than hell, I am still wearing my pants.
My coat melted into a puddle
Which, when combined with arsenic, makes a muddle
A staggering slurry, in a poison puddle
Equal only to my heart's contents
And multiplied by my wildest dreams
Thoughts of grandeur eluded me.

Love, how sweet thou art my dear husband.
Yet, I fear we must part tonight
Despite the swiftness of our flight
We shall not arrive, prior fall of night.
Because our stupid car ran out of gas
We couldn't go to the festival
So home we sat, just we two.

The sun's harsh rays, on my naked scalp
Turn my follicles to wasted pulp
And wreak havoc upon my scalp
Those blades of them Injuns
Slice through their saris
Burning them to the bones
Yet not dislodging them from their thrones.

The tainted well feeds unclean thoughts
To all the souls who drink from it
The stars twinkle above
The silhouette of the dove
Flutters past my waking eye
Like a beautiful floating plastic bag
It swirls through my thoughts, unwanted, yet comical.

The purple glimmer of the paint
As distance grows, it grows faint
I can only see it with one eye closed
Yet to look away would be to go blind
A beauty so vast I am blessed to find
Myself alone in all the world
I want to cry, but my eyes were purled.

What happens to the leaves of trees
When the wind blows down the hill
My glass of water threatens to spill.
If only it had not been filled
And all its great potential wasted
But not all is for naught
Not all green things will turn to rot.

What is that smell? It wafts from every drain.
It must be some half dead, rotting brain
Fish sticks are driving me insane
It hurts to surf over them
But the sharks are even scarier than they are
With gleaming eyes of hollow souls
Like the inside of a film canister.

There is nothing to be done about the blob.
Yet the longer we wait, the stronger it throbs.
Like a blistered foot trapped in a boot
The medic tossed in the hat
And said, "Well, that is that!"
Then he walked away
Only ever to be seen again by cats.

I shift into overdrive and zip to the lead
Driven solely by my need for speed.
The ruts  hinder my progress
Because they hide mud that consumes my tires
I gun the motor in a futile display,
But everyone recognizes my desperate and obnoxious pretension
And thinks the worst of me for it.

As I ran through fields of golden wheat
I knew I hadn't had enough to eat.
I must muster my strength from some other source
Perhaps from the Red Bull I drank today.
The worm at the bottom winked at me
The beauty of downing a bottle of tequila
Has never been better represented.

Acting tough, it makes it hard
To admit to your mom you are a bard.
In your shocking departure from the closet,
Your face was hidden by a stray hanger
And your form obscured by jackets.
That lovely hourglass figure
Has lost all its sand.

My sporty car enhances my mood.
It makes me feel like one super cool dude!
Which is to say, very good
And not at all bad. Quite satisfactory.
The glimmering, dancing taste is divine
For it is stars upon which dine
The galactic monsters sublime.
sanura: (Default)
( Apr. 20th, 2015 12:58 pm)
The performance art piece that Eric came to Houston to participate in was a project by Susanne Bocanegra, whom I know from her connection to her husband David Lang (who wrote the Little Match Girl Passion that the chamber choir sang a couple seasons ago). Her project, held at the MFAH, was very cool; it's called Bodycast, and it is a sort of autobiographical narrative about her experience wearing a body cast from age 12-14, and the influence it had on her art. It includes excerpts from some other pieces of hers, including a ballet interpretation of a chart of dot counts in a Seurat painting and a song composed according to an equation a mathematician made to describe a yarn organizer she got at a garage sale. Eric sang the song. It was pretty cool.

After the show, Reggie and I waited around for Eric to come out, and were about to go upstairs and look at some art when Eric called me back. We had got through introductions and were about to catch up and maybe go eat some food, when an old man with a commanding presence interrupted and asked if Eric was the one who sang. He was. The guy must have thought Reggie and I were just there to congratulate Eric on his singing, and wanted us to finish our conversation before he did his spiel, but Eric informed him it'd be awhile, as I was an old buddy, so he should just go ahead.

And so this guy introduced himself as An Artist with a gallery in the Heights and an HBO special about his art, which is composed of unclaimed ashes from crematoria apparently, and he wondered if Eric would be interested in composing a ballad to go with one or more of the six pieces he was currently working on. A death ballad for death art. And he really wanted Eric to see it right now so he could tell if he would want to participate in it. He said he'd drive Eric to his gallery and right back or his hotel or wherever he wanted to go. Eric looked at me I think to confirm the weirdness and see what I thought, and it looked like a significant opportunity if this guy wasn't a total nutcase, so I told him he should go, and he should text when he got back and we'd see about hanging out later.

I went to Hobbit with Reggie and didn't end up seeing Eric again on Saturday, but Reggie and I had a good hang (that is still a new enough regular occurrence that I have to savor it thoroughly). I also mentioned the story to Aaron and admitted text message wasn't the best medium to tell it through, so when Reggie and I got back from getting frozen yogurt (I had a craving), we Skyped with Aaron and tried to explain the day. I think we got the kind of surreality across, and it was good to see and talk to Aaron and introduce him to Reggie.

Sunday was the chamber choir gala, for which I Dressed Up. We had to sit with the donors this year and eat dinner sociably, and I wasn't exactly monopolizing the conversation (I was at a table with Joanne Ritacca, who can tell a good few namedropping stories), but I think I managed to be reasonably charming. And a bunch of different people (most effectively Michael Walsh, who is always nice to me but whom for some reason I believe when he gives me compliments) told me I looked great, so I suspect the outfit was a success. I even wore heels and makeup. Imagine. Or don't, I think there must be a picture around somewhere. Reggie told me to take one, so there should be one from before I even left.

We schmoozed and hors d'oeuvred and finally got to sit down to the salad (heels are not my favorite thing to stand around in), and converse pleasantly with our tablemates. It had been planned that my table would also be manned by Erik, who is one of my favorite people in the chamber choir, but that was before Brad realized Erik was on the MS-150. So, no. No gala for Erik. But it was all right, anyway, and then they did the little Rusk Elementary program plug and we all went up to sing and my pick flew out of my hand on Stomping Bride but I think I thumbed the strings loud enough anyway, and we went back and got our weird dessert, and it was finished.

And Eric was back at the Lancaster, which was only two blocks from the Rice where the gala was, despite the thunderstorm pouring. I walked it happily, and in heels no less, and got to just lounge around with Eric for several hours till I had to flop on home so I could get up for work in the morning. He walked back to the car with me for an adventure, which was lucky, as the cathedral garage had closed for the night. But we conquered it with teamwork; he raised the gate by main strength, enough that I could slither underneath it and click the Open button so he could get in too. It did open automatically when I drove the car up to it, though.

So, an atypical weekend full of oddly displaced friends and surreal conversations. It was strange but good.
sanura: (Default)
( Apr. 10th, 2015 09:05 am)
Two nights in a row I have strapped a mattress to the top of Reggie's car and helped him move it to his new place. That sounds like a euphemism, but I'm not sure what for. It's just good to accomplish things with him, even if they're things anybody could do. Although I think he probably would have been too scared to put them on the roof if I hadn't been there with my specialized knowledge of knots and leverage (I do not have this specialized knowledge. I guessed, and I am pretty good at tying things together, so it worked out). I also just really like putting furniture together (ikea prefab is especially satisfying, but a king mattress with two boxsprings and a collapsible frame is its own party).
sanura: (Default)
( Apr. 5th, 2015 09:26 pm)
Well, I am glad that particular church season is over.

And excited to do Symphony of Psalms with the chamber choir. I actually texted a chamber choir friend who couldn't make the first rehearsal, explaining how sad I was he was missing it because it is such a beautiful thing and even reading through it was making me cry.

And this after getting to lie around in my room showing it to Reggie, who had never heard it. Jeez. And I got to have late Chapultepec with him after the easter vigil service last night, too. Some things are going really well.
sanura: (Default)
( Mar. 14th, 2015 08:26 pm)
A morning with Susan and Jayden, an afternoon with Joodles walking the High Line. Yesterday dinner with Joodles, Thursday with Bryan, dinner with Ben, Bryan, Trevor, and Trevor's friend Adam, late evening with Trevor. It's the best kind of college reunion up in here.

Wednesday mostly on the bus, but some time with Brent and Tony.

Monday will be lunch with Eric and Liz, Tuesday night is Ben's final doctoral lecture-performance, Wednesday I bail for Boston again and see Roomful of Teeth with Kyra. It'll be amazing.
sanura: (Default)
( Feb. 17th, 2015 10:33 pm)
Just had my first rehearsal with Paul Hillier. He's pretty good.
sanura: (Default)
( Feb. 12th, 2015 09:49 pm)
Daniel Knaggs does a good doctoral recital.  It's been awhile since I saw a Rice recital anyway, and the quality of the compositions and the performances were both worth the schlep from home. It does make me wanna write something, though.
sanura: (Default)
( Feb. 5th, 2015 11:17 pm)
Winnie had four babies day before yesterday. I keep carving rocks. I pulled off a new-music gig with very little warning for the first time in ages. Sylvie is still confined to my room most of the time. It's still too cold, though there was one day that was paradise. I hope the sun comes back soon.
sanura: (Default)
( Jan. 16th, 2015 08:25 pm)
I have restored my data after a catastrophic hard drive failure around Thanksgiving. It is nice to have my own computer back.
sanura: (Default)
( Dec. 30th, 2014 06:58 pm)
Tony's in town for the holidays, and despite his family's drama, he got to come over last night. We spent a lot of time trading music, but there was a significant amount of just catching up, too. He is an awfully good cuddle. And I don't think it's just that I don't often have the opportunity.

Yesterday I started recording the song I think I've taken to calling The Road; playing the cello does not come immediately back to me, and I am not an expert recorder player, but I think I will be able to pull it off in something like the style of the New World Renaissance Band. At least with similar instrumentation. Actually, I should ask Laura if she'll harp it up for me, too. That'd be fun. Meanwhile, it's sitting there with just mandolin and vocals (and scratch-tracks of cello and recorder). But it will improve.
sanura: (Default)
( Dec. 29th, 2014 02:13 pm)
It has been Christmas for awhile, and I don't have to go to work. It seems like more of a change than I think it is. I remember getting back from grad school and, before Dan hired me or I had any regular ensembles, making up things to do to fill the days. I still haven't done those things, and I've been free all day for nearly a week. It feels a bit like a failure, but I have lit a lot of candles.
sanura: (Default)
( Dec. 8th, 2014 08:43 am)
Wow. That may be the best show experience I've had since Tony Beliveau handed me a piano string right off the stage.

I arrived in Austin, found a relatively convenient and free parking spot, and confirmed the time of the show with the bartender at the Hole In The Wall (very apt, really). I spent the remaining 7 hours mostly in the car, occasionally in the Burger King next door, finishing Deathly Hallows. I got to the end of the epilogue just in time to go in and watch the openers start setting up, around 9:30. Andrew arrived shortly thereafter, and we sat at the bar chatting (the bartender was very helpful about giving me drinks with no alcohol).

Eventually, some of the guys came up to the bar from their little clique in the corner to get drinks. I said hi to George across Andrew, and he said a surprised hi back, and asked where he knew me from. I explained we'd come to see Crash Kings last time they were in Austin, and introduced myself and Andrew, and stated our cities of habitation. George was impressed with the length of my trip just to see the band, but I told him they were worth it. He hoped so, and told me the show was gonna be pretty different this time, as they had no drummer and were playing acoustics. I didn't mind, as I really liked the acoustic recording of Land Without Age they posted on Youtube, but they had a cojon even on that one, so this was gonna be a new experience for me.

We talked about the albums a bit, and I explained The Gears probably has about 200 plays on my iTunes. "The whole album?!" he asked, and I confirmed. It's a good one for drawing to. The Overload is a little less of a constant companion; I love some of those songs so specifically I can't let the next track roll on. He asked which ones I skip; I know I'm a Cat is his favorite, but I said it anyway with a lot of qualifiers. I just love the first four and Legend of Red Mahogany so much I skip to them.

I had my copy of Dance With Dragons facedown on the bar, so he asked about my book. I showed it to him, and we commiserated over the different levels of action in the various installments of A Song of Ice and Fire. I told him I'd been saving this one for awhile, so I could reread the others and get the foundation of the story back under me, but I eventually gave it up and just started it, as I'm afraid GRRM is going to die before he gets the last ones done. George has apparently met GRRM; he told the story really well. He was hanging out in the Beverly Hills Mariott with his hotel-heir friend, whom he didn't know was the son of the owner until after they'd already been friends in college forever (I told him about Joodles's unexpected descent from the Exec VP of Shell, and he was suitably impressed), when he saw GRRM walk through with some people. He yelled out "I'm a big fan", and got a nod and a smile in return, and then "of the books!", and that made GRRM come over and talk with him a bit. What a fun conversation that could be.

He eventually went back over to his friends, but Tyson came up to get a drink and did a double-take at me and Andrew, saying "look who it is!" and I admitted we were the ones who had stolen their merch table last time they were in town. He was glad to see us, and went around the back while  the openers started to play. I'm sure they were skilled and talented, but punk is not my genre, and I think the rest of the bar concurred, as they (Trophy Kids, I believe they were called) garnered only polite applause and seemed content with it.

And then King Washington came on and did two whole songs for their sound check, soliciting feedback from the all of 12 people in the bar about the sound. Did anything need turning up or down? Nobody said so, so they played amazing show.

They started with Hey Boy, which I don't know well, as the singular recording on Youtube is not very good-quality audio, but I certainly loved it live. They did an awful lot of songs I did know, though, and Andrew and I tracked the various levels of obviousness of Beatles influence from song to song. Andrew even said he recognized several of the ones they had played at the first show we saw.

George asked me by name from the stage how I liked the acoustic versions of their songs, which was fun. I said "I love it!" and I was very enthusiastic, but he teased me about how when people's voices go up like that they might not mean what they say. I reassured him that I spoke the truth; I really did love it. Everything was just as powerful as the studio recordings, and the several unfamiliar tunes grabbed me I'm sure just as hard as they would have if it'd been an electric show.

It is an interesting thing, being a musician. I am sure there are people who love individual pieces of music as much or more than I do, but it is a delicate thing, a live show. The experience is so easy to mar, or even ruin, with the wrong atmosphere. I try not to be a snob about concert etiquette at classical shows, and I think I succeed pretty well, but it still draws me inexorably out of the potential greatness when somebody is continuously unwrapping candy next to me, or a kid is kicking my seat, or a hard-of-hearing couple are faux-whispering comments to each other. These are not occurrences that can screw up a rock show, and for that I am grateful; even acoustic shows are so much louder than any bar ambiance that I can be totally immersed in both the sound and the sight of the guys on stage pouring music into the air. When it is music I have obsessed about independently of live performance, there is the added dimension of interactivity; they are people, and they play music, and I am a person who can play music, too.

If you've been on tour for 10 weeks and you're stalling to figure out the progression of a song you haven't played in awhile, and your words have left you, you can say that into the microphone and it will remind me that you are real, someone real created this stuff that I love, and it is possible to do amazing things in the world even if you aren't a constant paragon of perfect stage presence. If you flub the progression a little bit when you play the aforementioned song, and then recover beautifully and rock a scorching solo, and then explain sheepishly how in those 10 weeks you have somehow forgotten to play the guitar (especially if I happen to know you are an utter guitar badass, a graduate of the USC guitar program), it is endearing and reassuring, because you are real! It is not a mean indictment of your mistake that brings me joy. You are a person! You are not a recording, and I am not either, and that means I can aspire to your level someday.

I don't know if these things and a sense of bone-deep rightness soak into fans who don't write or play themselves, but when I see a show full of greatness, especially flawed and goofy greatness, in an idiom I can analyze and appreciate and identify all the aspects of which I like, some of which seem to be precisely tailored to my musical preferences, it's not just an academic satisfaction. It's the closest I think my humanistic soul comes to a religious experience. Except it's also fun.

George insisted they were done when they played their last song, as "that is literally all the songs we know", but somebody shouted out "Tom Waits!" and it was on. He encored, by himself, while Billy and Tyson started loading out their amps and instruments, with 3 tom waits songs. He took requests for the first two, one of which was The House Where Nobody Lives, and then did the one he was going to do in the first place, The Heart of Saturday Night. I wished I could have remembered the one I like from his soundcloud, All the World is Green, but it was fantastic just to hear him say "that's my jam!" when somebody asked for something he liked. He eventually begged off around 1, admitting he could play Tom Waits all night.

Andrew didn't stay long, but I waited around, finishing my Bloody Mary Mix (I told you the bartender was helpful). Tyson came and sat with the table of girls next to me, and George eventually came and sat down with me. I asked for a copy of The Gears for the way home, since they hadn't had any left last time, and I couldn't burn a cd despite having a computer day job. He asked me what my job was, and I ended up basically pitching OpenStax to him. I admitted I wasn't really looking forward to going to work tomorrow, though, and he realized I still had to drive back to Houston. "Get outta here!", he said, but I said it wouldn't make much difference. He loved the idea, of OpenStax, anyway, and was very enthusiastic about accessibility and openness, and recommended me the Aaron Swartz documentary, which I have to admit sounded painfully sad but excellent.

He mentioned they're going straight from Austin to Phoenix, so we talked about driving and long trips and touring, and I said I thought I would do well in the touring life. He said it's hard, especially a ten-week jaunt like they've been doing. I know that, but he misses his family and friends and girlfriend, and I don't have any friends ("I'm sure that's not true," he said seriously, but for real, very few of my friends live here, so I might see more of them if I were a nationally touring entity), so I think I'd be suited to it. And the driving.

I mentioned I stay awake by singing, and he hypothesized probably not on 16-hour trips, so I told him about the Kansas City to Boston drive where I had the midnight-to-9am leg and spent the whole time singing the earlier discs of the Beatles Anthology at the top of my lungs. I love the obscure stuff you find in those kinds of compilations; we talked about obscure recordings from early in the era and how fascinating they are. He explained how his girlfriend's grandmother was a jazz singer whose first recording gig was with Benny Goodman and whose early recordings are now lost. The time was a tricky one; stuff used to just get burned. I mentioned as a similar example Doctor Who, and how lucky we are to have as much the Anthology we do; he suggested it's probably because they got really big not long after they started recording. He also recommended a more obscure set of Beatles recordings, the original acoustic demos of the White Album, known as From Kinfauns to Chaos, available in the dark recesses of the internet. It's amazing.

He thought he should probably get back in the van, and I said I'd drive to Houston instead, and thanked him emphatically, with a return thanks for coming out. It was. The best show.
sanura: (Default)
( Nov. 3rd, 2014 05:11 pm)
It's gonna be three eventful weekends in a row. Last weekend, it was Halloween, my very favorite. I even had a costume all day; it turned out really well, and I made a crown for it that I'm still pretty proud of. With materials I got (except the leaves) (well, actually most of the quartz I already had, also) from the weekend before, at the Gem Show. It had been years since I'd been, I think, and definitely years since I'd seen Sandy, but Dag was also there, and it was weird and comfortable and kind of good to be reminded that they have known me since I was small and I was basically raised among the opals.

The Gem Show was on top of the wedding I had to sing with laryngitis, which was an interesting and not entirely pleasant experience, but I didn't completely disgrace myself and I got home in time to stream Henry V for St. Crispin's Day, and a bunch of people I didn't expect showed up from Sam's stream, which was nice, because I felt like it needed a good celebration. As did Halloween, on Friday, which I celebrated, as is my tradition in recent years, by myself in my room with candles and Lloyd Webber. If Susan or Jenny were around, I suspect we'd be howling on rooftops, but as it is I can dance myself to exhaustion quite effectively.

And next weekend I am taking Laura and her son to the RenFest, which they've never been to here, and then that very evening is the chamber choir concert. We'll see how exhausted I am. Looking forward to it, actually; I like all the rep on this concert, and there is nothing like the RenFest, plus I get to hang out all day with Laura, so, really, no downside. Even achy feet will be okay. I will probably sleep pretty hard, though.
sanura: (Default)
( Oct. 21st, 2014 07:56 pm)
Well, I am back from Boston.

It was an odd trip, but a good one. Though I do not like how Brent and Tony act in each other's company at all. Luckily, most of the trip was not with them together.

sanura: (Default)
( Oct. 5th, 2014 11:33 pm)
So much singing, so much birthday. Many yay.
sanura: (Default)
( Oct. 3rd, 2014 11:24 pm)

I am intimidated by tomorrow. This is the first year that Yom Kippur services, my period, and my birthday have all coincided. I'm basically on my feet singing from 11am to 7:30pm.

But Reggie is going to take me to the Barber Violin Concerto after that, so I will drive very fast away from temple. We'll see how late the service goes.
sanura: (Default)
( Sep. 26th, 2014 08:48 pm)
I am absurdly tired for 9pm, but it has been a long couple of days. Rosh Hashana is draining when 1. the service lasts from 9am to 1pm and is mostly standing and 2. the order and content of the rep list is constantly changing (including during the service). It has been fun to do gigs with Laura, though.

I finished my second read of the Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison, and am angry it's over, once again. I love that book.

I took Hélène, a newish employee at dayjob, with me to spectate at fighter practice last night after the 1000-adoptions work party, and she seemed very enthusiastic about it, so maybe I will have a frequent-contact scadian friend soon. She and I spend a lot of time talking about language when we have a spare conversation, and we get along pretty well. I want to meet her ferrets.

I've got High Holidays folder shoulder. I wanna get squushed.
sanura: (Default)
( Sep. 16th, 2014 03:01 pm)
First chamber choir concert (inside the city limits) of the season tonight. Dan is bringing an unexpected number of people, both of whom are subbing for me in upcoming Wednesday night church rehearsals, since high holidays are soon and full of Wednesday rehearsals. Man, I will be glad when that is done with.

Then again, the symphony chorus thinks I can do more concerts than I probably can; I sent them an email about it, so we'll see what happens. If I do those, it will be several weeks of every-night rehearsal interspersed throughout the season, and I am a little reticent to get back to that kind of schedule.

I do at some point want to play another Vivat & Hail gig, but first I need to write a couple more songs (or teach the others some Crash Kings covers, maybe that fun Toto song).

Reggie, after near-complete radio silence for months, invited me last night to see the Barber violin concerto on my birthday. I was in the middle of the chamber choir's Cathedral dress rehearsal, but it is not often lately I get texts from Reggie, so I semi-covertly responded about Yom Kippur gigs and invited him to the concert and dropped by his house after rehearsal was over in case he was home. He wasn't, but I had a good time jamming in the car till I tried to leave and discovered the battery had run down and the car wouldn't start. David and mama came and jumped it, but I am perturbed as to why an hour of cd-player juice would kill a car battery. I even turned the lights off. Hmm.

So I am a little tired today, but I think the concert will be good and also several people are coming.