old friends, new gigs

Last night I saw the awesomely awesome kick-ass Chris McGann play/march/dance/drum/visual effectifize with Blast. On top of getting to see a friend have a real gig and be somewhat of a celebrity, I really enjoyed the show.

Chris is going to come and see us this weekend in Denton and party. It'll be just like last October only we won't have to drive anywhere or walk across the street to the Chilis.

The show was in Fort Worth, which seemed like it had a cool little downtown area. Nice buildings, clean streets, and some sense of civic pride. Much different than Dallas. And, free parking! And, much closer to Denton!

Unrelated: In my lesson yesterday I surpassed all my previous standards and performed the ABSOLUTE BEST I have ever played. This makes up tenfold for the myriad frustrations and annoyances that the COM at UNT dumps upon me daily.

Maybe one of these days I'll have a bitchin' gig too.

what the fuck, texas? #9

Homecoming at my high school was a football game, a dance, and a week preceding of cheesy spirit events that I never failed to ignore. I was never able to go to the Homecoming dance as the Mt Carmel band tournament never failed to take place on the same night.

Homecoming in Texas apparently involves buying your sweetie a large, jangly, streamer-bedecked 'mum with a teddy bear attached to the middle and having them pin it to either their arm or their chest, depending on gender.

Example A.

Example B.

Notice how in ex. B you can barely even see the poor girl. She's covered in four feet of glittery tradition and she loves it! That thing's gotta weigh like 10 lbs.

The Dallas Morning News tells us how it is.

It's officially confirmed: Texas exists in some sort of bizarro-reality. There's a real Texas somewhere, but it got misplaced in the Great Dimension Warp of '34. Never been the same since.

when are you free to take some tea with me?

We're keeping an eye on Miss Rita down in the Gulf, even way up here in DFW. Take a look: Rita's projected path. By Sunday we may be under a flash flood warning, with 30+ mph winds.

Chuck's family evacuated Houston under mandatory orders and are now safe in Austin (insofar as any good Baptist conservative family can be safe in Austin- also, natch, I wish I were in Austin this weekend as it's ACL), so keep them in your thoughts. We may be getting some visitors up here; friends Chuck went to high school with are thinking of coming for the weekend.

Also thinking of Mikey M, at Rice. Come up and visit me if you need to, I've got plenty of room!

want! MUST HAVE

I need this shirt.

it's all about ME!

Week three of school has started and all is going, for the most part, fairly well. It is going to be a challenging semester, trombone-wise, but for once I feel up to it. I'm in JK's studio, which is fabulous. Already she's given me more to work on in a week than Bill ever did in a year. Two etudes, three excerpts, one page of a solo, and tunes in all twelve keys. I'm out of shape and my wrist hurts from practicing so much, but I'm on my way to awesome.

The academic parts so far have been a mixed bag. My theory class is run by a veritable wealth of knowledge, Dr Cho, and there's a lot to learn. It's almost more of a history class...and it's definitely a nice wake-up call from theory at UW Madison. My other class is Form Analysis, which I have been previously quoted as saying I need a support group for. It's an 8 am class, an hour and a half long, necessary for my degree but not for any sort of graduate credit (don't ask if you don't want a lengthy angry rant), and pretty much the biggest snoozefest I've ever been involved in, and that's counting Archaealogy 102 at Madison. Basically we could be learning a lot of practical analysis, but mostly we're just listening to our professor struggle with words.

Those two classes are both at 8, so I have four days of early classes followed by Friday, the day I drive back down to Dallas to teach lessons. I have to leave at ass o'clock and on the way home fight traffic. My students are good this year, and it's not really that much of a pain to get down there, it just takes a long time.

Okay. nothing else to report. You should call me. Hang out verbally. Maybe physically if you can find it in your heart, budget, and schedule to come visit. I've got beer.

thank you, jon stewart

My hero: Jon Stewart's opening monologues from Sept 5th and 6th, 2005.

i speak my pain in silence

I've been mute on the crises in the South because I know words can't give it justice. There's a lot I could be doing, especially so near to Dallas, and even parts of Denton, that are housing refugees. I have some money, and clothes, and food, and water.

What can I say that hasn't been said?

Do you know what it means, to miss New Orleans?