and i'm changing my own personal font. touché. the scientologist dental practice people claimed i "wasn't a good fit" for the job, which is probably true. i don't know. perhaps i intimidate people? i've seen certain sides of the world that i am proud of, but that doesn't necessitate showing it off. so i'm back on it, trying to find a job, i dropped off my resumé to a few salons and local coffee shops and restaurants. it's discouraging, mostly because i thought i had something.
saturday richard and i are heading out to blues alley to see tim reynolds (blues guitar). tickets were a bit pricey, and the overhead for food and drink is a little steep, but we've never been, and it's supposed to be quite a place.
i might head out to an african dance class at the howard county arts center saturday morning. they have live drummers.
if i get a job, am i still allowed to be kooky? i guess i should close myself a little more.
16.6.07
mr. sleepy
sound of the squeaky shower head
yellow shag carpet on naked feet
faint pervasive smell of cocoa butter and garlic
errant blueberries the taste of white gold on my chin
hum of the turning refrigerator smooth cracked leather
sleeping barely waking grown restful from disuse
the telling crunch of a cherry tomato guessing wrong
things familiar churning mulling it all over was it fixed
given a tell smudges on the mirror of my childhood
nightly hoping for spiderbites sign of nightmare
marks of bitter reality an excuse to sweep away
remnants of the past on my windowsill frozen fixed
flushed dripping sweltering dans l'air climatisé
biking paved suburban circles alone mid-morning
yellow shag carpet on naked feet
faint pervasive smell of cocoa butter and garlic
errant blueberries the taste of white gold on my chin
hum of the turning refrigerator smooth cracked leather
sleeping barely waking grown restful from disuse
the telling crunch of a cherry tomato guessing wrong
things familiar churning mulling it all over was it fixed
given a tell smudges on the mirror of my childhood
nightly hoping for spiderbites sign of nightmare
marks of bitter reality an excuse to sweep away
remnants of the past on my windowsill frozen fixed
flushed dripping sweltering dans l'air climatisé
biking paved suburban circles alone mid-morning
14.6.07
some drinks
mardi soir: café de paris, under the auspices of eric, richard and i rolled out at 9pm, i think i psychologically ignored eric's suggestion that i arrive from 5:30-8:30 to see the jazz...needless to say, when we arrived the musicians had packed up their instruments and gathered up their tips. we each had a glass of dry cote de rhone wine and talked things over.
plans for next week--dinner at iron bridge winery (which reminded me from the pictures on the website of that winery i stopped by but didn't drink anything at in the 16th arrondissement, was it? with manou?), maybe also a movie at the charles ("waitress"?).
in the farther future, we're planning a dinner party at richard's place (more space and no interference of my parents, a definite plus), perhaps indian-themed? although we wanted to have wine, with richard handling the wine pairings of the dishes...we'll see.
last night: happy hour with some obie alums in the d.c. area at café citron, down by dupont circle. oliver mains! cristina jardine! becky davidson! fabulousness. it was lovely to see oliver, it had been a while, and cristina met him for the first time and they became fast friends. we're plotting some cool things, maybe movies on e street or dinners in bethesda/silver spring.
cristina had a mojito (they're known for them there), i a corona with lime, and after schmoozing a little we left in the pouring rain (i had my little plaid umbrella with me, thank god) in search of a restaurant. we ended up at a good mediterranean restaurant, i had something involving beef and eggplant, although i was disappointed with the result, and cristina had a spinach and cheese pizza-type entree. blue moon for her and a glass of red wine for me.
we left late, my fault because i talk to much (obvi). it took me a while on the metro (like paris, at night the trains run less frequently), and i changed at chinatown (as did cristina, but she to the yellow line in the opposite direction) to the green line and took it nearly to the end. there was a bit of a mess on 95S past the 32 exit where i got off, i'm not sure whether it was an accident or what, but i was tired and the flashing lights woke me up a little. i was home by 11h30 and in bed by 1.
on the reading list: the tent (m. atwood), some plath poetry, if on a winter's night a traveler (i. calvino)
cooking tonight: ratatouille (2e fois) avec de l'ail, aubergines, courgettes, tomates, poivrons (rouge, orange, jaune, vert), herbes de provence. yum.
plans for next week--dinner at iron bridge winery (which reminded me from the pictures on the website of that winery i stopped by but didn't drink anything at in the 16th arrondissement, was it? with manou?), maybe also a movie at the charles ("waitress"?).
in the farther future, we're planning a dinner party at richard's place (more space and no interference of my parents, a definite plus), perhaps indian-themed? although we wanted to have wine, with richard handling the wine pairings of the dishes...we'll see.
last night: happy hour with some obie alums in the d.c. area at café citron, down by dupont circle. oliver mains! cristina jardine! becky davidson! fabulousness. it was lovely to see oliver, it had been a while, and cristina met him for the first time and they became fast friends. we're plotting some cool things, maybe movies on e street or dinners in bethesda/silver spring.
cristina had a mojito (they're known for them there), i a corona with lime, and after schmoozing a little we left in the pouring rain (i had my little plaid umbrella with me, thank god) in search of a restaurant. we ended up at a good mediterranean restaurant, i had something involving beef and eggplant, although i was disappointed with the result, and cristina had a spinach and cheese pizza-type entree. blue moon for her and a glass of red wine for me.
we left late, my fault because i talk to much (obvi). it took me a while on the metro (like paris, at night the trains run less frequently), and i changed at chinatown (as did cristina, but she to the yellow line in the opposite direction) to the green line and took it nearly to the end. there was a bit of a mess on 95S past the 32 exit where i got off, i'm not sure whether it was an accident or what, but i was tired and the flashing lights woke me up a little. i was home by 11h30 and in bed by 1.
on the reading list: the tent (m. atwood), some plath poetry, if on a winter's night a traveler (i. calvino)
cooking tonight: ratatouille (2e fois) avec de l'ail, aubergines, courgettes, tomates, poivrons (rouge, orange, jaune, vert), herbes de provence. yum.
10.6.07
no más! my first night at café de paris.
eric (owner of café de paris) m'a dit que je pourrais "observer" the staff d'une fête ce soir. quand je suis arrivée, j'ai rencontré nikki et jessica, deux soeurs qui travaillent ensemble au café. j'ai aidé nikki dans son boulot, qui était de servir une fête de 25 personnes pour l'anniversaire d'une femme. quand j'ai demandé le nom de la femme, elle m'a dit "paula micka" et j'ai commencé à rire! mon dieu, c'est mon ancienne prof de français au lycee, quoi!! alors c'était un gros plaisir de voir son mari, qui est malade depuis quelques mois, et sa fille, et tous les gens qui l'aiment beaucoup. je n'ai pas gagné beaucoup d'argent, mais vraiment c'était très sympa, avec tous le staff et les clients. j'ai aussi l'écrire une lettre quand j'étais à paris, mais elle ne m'a pas répondu, mais je comprends maintenant que c'était à cause de la maladie de son mari. je ne sais pas si eric va m'appeller toute de suite, mais j'espère que je peux travailler là-bas pour les petites fêtes comme ça, c'est quelque chose que j'aimerais bien faire.
it's also good practice for my french. still no wifi hub-thingy for my laptop, so i'm stuck using all the shortcut codes for french accents. i wish i had a blow-up team of guys that would help me unpack and reorganize everything. it's a huge job, and i'm intimidated by it.
quand-même, il faut que je trouve quelque chose comme "full-time job" parce que ce serait impossible pour moi de gagner assez d'argent comme ça. pour aller à new york, il faut jouer beaucoup de gigs (qui n'existent pas) ou travailler dans une boite que je déteste. je connais presque personne qui pourrait me donner un job, alors...idées? quelqu'un sage?
it's also good practice for my french. still no wifi hub-thingy for my laptop, so i'm stuck using all the shortcut codes for french accents. i wish i had a blow-up team of guys that would help me unpack and reorganize everything. it's a huge job, and i'm intimidated by it.
quand-même, il faut que je trouve quelque chose comme "full-time job" parce que ce serait impossible pour moi de gagner assez d'argent comme ça. pour aller à new york, il faut jouer beaucoup de gigs (qui n'existent pas) ou travailler dans une boite que je déteste. je connais presque personne qui pourrait me donner un job, alors...idées? quelqu'un sage?
5.6.07
multiphonics across the atlantic
how is it that some women can contort their abdomens like that? i saw a thing on maryland public television (they were promoting a dvd) where they were combining yoga and bellydancing. it's beautiful and ugly at once. i'm starting in on ismail beah's memoirs of a boy soldier.
david's natural market is a no-go - they've hired for all positions for the summer. la madeleine and donna's are still possibles.
i got business cards printed and intend to draft a one-page resumé and run them around to local schools and maybe mail them to hotels that host events that might require music. solo flute might not be their style, but i think michael beharie (guitar) is coming back into town in july. will we get gigs? this isn't new york...
my dad sleeps chaotically when tired, snoring noisily, open-mouthed.
yoga, more unpacking, and a new paganini caprice tomorrow. 2nd movement of poulenc. i am enjoying the freedom of controlling the repertoire i work on. i'm brainstorming about the larrieu competition in nice - we'll see if i can lay down a few tracks good enough to send out for the preliminary tape by the end of july.
david's natural market is a no-go - they've hired for all positions for the summer. la madeleine and donna's are still possibles.
i got business cards printed and intend to draft a one-page resumé and run them around to local schools and maybe mail them to hotels that host events that might require music. solo flute might not be their style, but i think michael beharie (guitar) is coming back into town in july. will we get gigs? this isn't new york...
my dad sleeps chaotically when tired, snoring noisily, open-mouthed.
yoga, more unpacking, and a new paganini caprice tomorrow. 2nd movement of poulenc. i am enjoying the freedom of controlling the repertoire i work on. i'm brainstorming about the larrieu competition in nice - we'll see if i can lay down a few tracks good enough to send out for the preliminary tape by the end of july.
3.6.07
pondering the latent humidity (no metaphors)
my body is dissipating between the slats of my childhood bed. i miss the fast pace of the city because it forced me into motion. here, time slips away without a schedule, without a trajectory. swimming through dense jelly with leaden boots. it's been difficult to surface.
writing helps. playing will too once i settle into a pace. any tips from the wise? i've been looking for jobs, right now the crêperie at café de paris sounds the most promising. gas is up to $3.16/gallon, still cheaper i know than europe, where gas is sold by the liter, but quand même $50 for a tank of gas is obscene. french feels heavy on my tongue, like someone gummed it up and threw it back. tomorrow, a new day, a new week, perhaps i can figure out where to jam all these things i have into some sort of organization? it will take inspiration. i'm getting a haircut, maybe i'll come out with a clear head.
i missed indian buffets in france. scene of today's crime: house of india on snowden river parkway. chicken tikka masala, pea curried deliciousness, naan bread, sweet lassi, many other delights whose flavors bled into eachother and simmered into my mouth. i will sleep tonight without pause. the narrative of "inheritance of loss" bleeds into my dreams. sylvia plath's poetry sits darkly in the corner of my mind.
comment as you will, mes amis. pointers from slices of your life, outlooks from across the ocean, all much appreciated.
writing helps. playing will too once i settle into a pace. any tips from the wise? i've been looking for jobs, right now the crêperie at café de paris sounds the most promising. gas is up to $3.16/gallon, still cheaper i know than europe, where gas is sold by the liter, but quand même $50 for a tank of gas is obscene. french feels heavy on my tongue, like someone gummed it up and threw it back. tomorrow, a new day, a new week, perhaps i can figure out where to jam all these things i have into some sort of organization? it will take inspiration. i'm getting a haircut, maybe i'll come out with a clear head.
i missed indian buffets in france. scene of today's crime: house of india on snowden river parkway. chicken tikka masala, pea curried deliciousness, naan bread, sweet lassi, many other delights whose flavors bled into eachother and simmered into my mouth. i will sleep tonight without pause. the narrative of "inheritance of loss" bleeds into my dreams. sylvia plath's poetry sits darkly in the corner of my mind.
comment as you will, mes amis. pointers from slices of your life, outlooks from across the ocean, all much appreciated.
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