an absolute nobody.

I'm just sick of ego, ego, ego. My own and everybody else's. I'm sick of everybody that wants to get somewhere, do something distinguished and all, be somebody interesting. It's disgusting.

JD Salinger, Franny and Zooey

maybe it's salinger's (franny's?) cynicism that helps me along this literature binge. next in line is vonnegut and possibly steinbeck, if i can get my hands on east of eden.

the renaissance group has yet to be named, but repertoire ideas are flying around - monteverdi (brookshire), ingegneri (gideon), lasso (thatcher), machaut (me) - now we just need bodies and a rehearsal space.

yum yum yum, indian food. good company and tasty leftovers.

new piccolo! burkart world (manufactured in china) with a wave headjoint - responsive with a percussive low register.

i'm starting to develop short story ideas...bought myself a little book for writing catchphrases, maybe a direct result of this wild, tumultuous summer spent between plot points and thin pages.
what defines an installation? a vibrant explosion of mixed media? something is happening in budapest, and they won't even know what hit them.

at last...

"Because, Martha, life's too short!" (Covent Garden, London, 12.07.2007).

i have realized that i have been duping myself. existence is as good as you make it, and you have to do what you love (anya, front desk at tai sophia). i've been trapped in my own delusion, which had til now made me wonder what went wrong. perhaps harry potter and the deathly hollows, 750 pages finished in just over 5 hours of reading (but who's counting?), broke the spell. not quite sure. whatever the case, it's time to blink my sleepy eyes and snap out of this bog in which i've been slowly treading water.

claro (def.)

new york will be a continuation of something i start here, now, this moment. african dance liberates my body; playing flute, my mind; writing and collaging, everything leftover. the spark is back - now i just have to run with it.

not so out of luck

i have a job now, at tai sophia institute, an acupuncture school about 20 seconds walking distance from the applied physics lab, where lynn has been working this summer. i make coffee, clean various surfaces, and sell people books and herbal supplements. my boss david is cool, very experienced in the book selling business. i try to bring positive karma to the store. so far it's working.

today my parents and i saw "the witches of eastwick," an awesome new musical that is in its pre-broadway stages. it closed tonight at signature theater. anyone remember the movie with cher, susan sarandon and jack nicholson? same plot, and the actors in this version are particularly delicious in their roles. hopefully a good portion of them will carry it to tinseltown (is that new york's nickname? i always get it confused for the nickname for paris, which i now know thanks to aunt eva is "the city of lights").

i have a certain amount of trepidation about carting myself away to new york. it's an inevitable change, i know. working in the box office at the arts center, interning and/or dj-ing at the radio station, forming and directing an 8- or 10-member renaissance group sponsored by the harpsichord professor, playing flute consistently and demanding more of myself - will it be all that i hope for? will i be able to get down to the city on weekends with any regularity? frequent art galleries and new music concerts? fall in love with the woods and remoteness that is purchase? drum up enough money for airfare to france to see important people?

hm.
as usual, too much worrying.
just read kite runner and have been listening to india.arie's "confessional" sans cesse.

fireworks and placing blame

working a 15-hour day is hard.

what do bottle rockets actually do, anyway? i know you're not supposed to hold them in your hand when you light them, at least...

my parents are at the beach for the week. i have the house to myself, and i jump at the sound of my own voice. my thoughts are louder. i'm thinking takoma park tomorrow. maybe looking at vintage clothes and drinking a good strong latté will kick start my weekend.

i am in a rut, and am solely responsible. today, micromanaging myself while smothering myself in colorful nonlocal raw vegetables and non-bottled water, i realized that. i also read janet frame's scented gardens for the blind during my brief stint at the fireworks stand off richie highway in glen burnie (we were there for the big storm - no tornado, but it thundered and hailed). she totally threw me for a loop in the last 4 pages. wicked, that one!