and this is the part that comes after

i have one little moment of the turn of the screw stuck in my head. (god, did that even happen?) i keep thinking to myself, 'i am alone.' (in the good way. i have this house to myself right now and i am thoroughly enjoying the quiet and the breeze and sun through the open window.) and then i am looking at camille on stage as she sings, 'i am alone. alooone. aaaalone.' and i take my cue from her and pass it on and we're into the variation. that has happened in my head more times than i can count this morning.

so yes, i did end up having a great time with the rehearsal last night. those are some really great people. and so... the same. all their silly little jokes and comments were so totally predictable and it almost made me cry happy tears.

speaking of happy - or maybe ambiguous - tears, i read callmesandy's tales of a librarian (20 happy moments in sirius black's life which involved remus lupin.) last night. it is an instant favorite. so beautiful. and the most perfect ending ever. ever. when i finished reading this, i just sat back in my chair and stared into space awhile, replaying the scenes from the fic in my head. and i don't even want to use words like amazing and wonderful because i use them all the time and this fic deserves new, special words. which i don't have. but if i did, i'd be using them here.

the saddest thing about yesterday is that the cowboy returned to 80s night. on the first night that i couldn't go! damn. fuschia passed along the report though and... damn. damn. i'll just share this tiny bit, "At one point, the three of them were dancing, boy/girl/boy, and the girl was short enough that the two guys were leaning over her, making out."

and happiest about today is that i get to hang out with jjtaylor. eee!

(no subject)

oh, and. this guy in the hartford choir sent us all an e-mail. the replacement (as if there could be a replacement) conductor for howard shore is alastair willis, from seattle, i think. i know nothing about him. but, to reassure us all, this guy forwarded us an e-mail from his friend in the seattle chorus:

You're very lucky to be having Alastair conducting you. He's very talented, and has an infectious energy and
enthusiasm. He's also a devoted choralite, having sung in top-notch choirs throughout his college years. [what a bizarre thing to say] He was greatly liked and admired here. Please send him my best! [all fine, right? right. and then the kicker:]

I think Alastair will be much easier to perform under than Howard Shore would have been.

Best regards, random person.

::pulls self together::

dear hartford chorale conductor, choristers and your snotty friends in other choirs,

fuck right off! i'm sick of your stuck-up bullshit. howard shore is a genius and you're petty and pathetic. no, shore is not bach, but you may have noticed they were not working in the same idiom. then again, your heads may be too far up your asses to notice anything.

not even a tiny scrap of love,
phineas