![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
In my life there has never been more work to do in one week (except Wednesday, before I had done my presentation), and yet I am feeling the idyllic drag of summer, and my stress is almost totally gone. Last night helped. A good studio class, in which I had an unusual audience since King's studio let out early, and did well. A good couple hours at home by myself, during which I had...
Well, one of those moments completely out of character for me. Having heard Grace Kelley intermittently over the past couple of days, I felt like dancing madly and jumping on couches in a fit of ecstatic hyperness. So, since I didn't yet have that album, I shuffled through Aerosmith's Jump, a bunch of Doobie Brothers, and the higher-energy Jethro Tull next to the cd player, and made up dance steps and tumbling of joyful madness.
That set me up well for Stephan's show. Closing night, as is usually the case, rocked the house to the ground. The entire thing was hysterical, perfectly timed, and even the flaws only added. Polonius's delayed entrance occasioned a short improvisation with Stephan, Tim, and Alex onstage, which is a recipe for hilarity when you consider Stephan is mad Hamlet and Tim and Alex are terrified of him and trying to keep him from leaving. The set started to strike itself in the middle of the second act, when, with Colin pushing Tim up against the wall, the cardboard came down from a section of it and a gaping black hole was revealed. They used it to great effect, since the play is about two people stuck on a stage with no power over what happens on or off it. Stephan used the hole, too, as a chicken; you had to see it. The props and costumes only started falling apart closing night, too. The runs in everyone's fishnets added to their disheveled appearance, the death of the retractable knife cracked everyone up, onstage and off, and the continual struggle to keep the two main characters' suspenders fastened made the panic of a world disintegrating around them much more literal.
It was an example of my penchant for immersing myself totally in the positive aspects of an experience. Everyone was beautiful, skilled, talented, charming, and competent, as well as gracious enough to include me a little in their glory. The feeling stayed even after I got back to Stephan's. I could only drink as much of the beauty in as possible, and taste it thoroughly as it went down. Ben and Bryan were still up, and that helped.
This morning's concert went well, I think. There were about eight people in the audience, but I sang well, Ben played well, and what I heard of other people's piece were great. This afternoon I've got a rehearsal with the pianist and possibly Phil for his recital pieces, unfortunately right at the time Aaron's recital starts. I will really regret missing it, but I've committed to this composition recital, and it's tonight, so there's not much chance of changing the rehearsal. Hopefully I won't be too much of a disgrace to the name of singer-asked-by-composer-to-do-something.
And then there's all the work, too. But I'm not really worried about it.
Well, one of those moments completely out of character for me. Having heard Grace Kelley intermittently over the past couple of days, I felt like dancing madly and jumping on couches in a fit of ecstatic hyperness. So, since I didn't yet have that album, I shuffled through Aerosmith's Jump, a bunch of Doobie Brothers, and the higher-energy Jethro Tull next to the cd player, and made up dance steps and tumbling of joyful madness.
That set me up well for Stephan's show. Closing night, as is usually the case, rocked the house to the ground. The entire thing was hysterical, perfectly timed, and even the flaws only added. Polonius's delayed entrance occasioned a short improvisation with Stephan, Tim, and Alex onstage, which is a recipe for hilarity when you consider Stephan is mad Hamlet and Tim and Alex are terrified of him and trying to keep him from leaving. The set started to strike itself in the middle of the second act, when, with Colin pushing Tim up against the wall, the cardboard came down from a section of it and a gaping black hole was revealed. They used it to great effect, since the play is about two people stuck on a stage with no power over what happens on or off it. Stephan used the hole, too, as a chicken; you had to see it. The props and costumes only started falling apart closing night, too. The runs in everyone's fishnets added to their disheveled appearance, the death of the retractable knife cracked everyone up, onstage and off, and the continual struggle to keep the two main characters' suspenders fastened made the panic of a world disintegrating around them much more literal.
It was an example of my penchant for immersing myself totally in the positive aspects of an experience. Everyone was beautiful, skilled, talented, charming, and competent, as well as gracious enough to include me a little in their glory. The feeling stayed even after I got back to Stephan's. I could only drink as much of the beauty in as possible, and taste it thoroughly as it went down. Ben and Bryan were still up, and that helped.
This morning's concert went well, I think. There were about eight people in the audience, but I sang well, Ben played well, and what I heard of other people's piece were great. This afternoon I've got a rehearsal with the pianist and possibly Phil for his recital pieces, unfortunately right at the time Aaron's recital starts. I will really regret missing it, but I've committed to this composition recital, and it's tonight, so there's not much chance of changing the rehearsal. Hopefully I won't be too much of a disgrace to the name of singer-asked-by-composer-to-do-something.
And then there's all the work, too. But I'm not really worried about it.