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If I weren't alive, I would be dead right now.
Thrilled to death last night and yesterday by the St. Basil 5-second reverb (uncut, unedited, needs doing), the outdoor Rachmaninoff, the interesting navigation, the terrible movie, and the lack of umph for rerecording. Grant and Seth will come and fix all our technical difficulties, and then it will be perfect.
So after getting to sleep around 4, I woke up at 10 this morning (and I do regret missing the departure of the half of Spectrum that lives in Houston. Every chance to see you guys is a Blessing From God, like Andrew). Went to recording session at Jones hall, promptly got a terrible headache, sang for three and a half hours, was driven to Christine Economides's house for a between-recording-sessions party. Longtime readers of this journal may recall certain profitable leaf-removals at this house in the past. This time I merely sat grumpily on the couch and read a book until I decided maybe weightlessness and water would help the evilness in my back and head. It didn't, but I cleaned a bunch of leaves and taught Tony the basics of competitive diving.
And then back to Jones hall for more grueling recording. I just got home, literally. We ended at 9:45. I am beat. And my back, my knees and the soles of my feet feel like they've been beaten. Punishment for the good time I had last night, I suppose. Though I was pretty tired by the end of that night, too.
Anyway, I'm not dead, and that's what counts. Maybe necklacing tomorrow?
Thrilled to death last night and yesterday by the St. Basil 5-second reverb (uncut, unedited, needs doing), the outdoor Rachmaninoff, the interesting navigation, the terrible movie, and the lack of umph for rerecording. Grant and Seth will come and fix all our technical difficulties, and then it will be perfect.
So after getting to sleep around 4, I woke up at 10 this morning (and I do regret missing the departure of the half of Spectrum that lives in Houston. Every chance to see you guys is a Blessing From God, like Andrew). Went to recording session at Jones hall, promptly got a terrible headache, sang for three and a half hours, was driven to Christine Economides's house for a between-recording-sessions party. Longtime readers of this journal may recall certain profitable leaf-removals at this house in the past. This time I merely sat grumpily on the couch and read a book until I decided maybe weightlessness and water would help the evilness in my back and head. It didn't, but I cleaned a bunch of leaves and taught Tony the basics of competitive diving.
And then back to Jones hall for more grueling recording. I just got home, literally. We ended at 9:45. I am beat. And my back, my knees and the soles of my feet feel like they've been beaten. Punishment for the good time I had last night, I suppose. Though I was pretty tired by the end of that night, too.
Anyway, I'm not dead, and that's what counts. Maybe necklacing tomorrow?