2002-08-15 at 12:04 p.m.
Meetings, meetings, meetings. My whole life seems to be an endless round of meetings, rehearsals, and more meetings at the moment, tempered with intervals of procrastination and inebriation. (A lot less inebriation than I�d like, too, since the only remaining alcohol in the house is about 5 ml of exceedingly old Strawberry Schnapps.)
At yesterday�s first meeting, the teacher came up to me and said, innocently enough-
�You�re not doing any academic subjects this semester, are you? Only practical subjects.�
This is true. I finished all the academic subjects last year.
�So� you aren�t very busy at the moment, right?�
Alarm bells went off in the back of my brain.
�Well, we need someone to do the narrative for the Tango concert� and since you�re a good writer� and you�re not too busy��
God. Dammit.
So, now I�m spending my spare time (in between meetings and procrastination) researching Tango music. It�s actually not as boring as I thought it would be. A few quotes-
�[The tango is] the dance of moral death, the creation and manifestation of barbarism�.
If that�s true, I shudder to think what the limb-flailings of Britney Spears are classified as.
�If this Tango-dancing female is the new woman, then God spare us from any further development of the abnormal creature�.
�says the book to the girl with a tongue piercing, a compulsive hair dying habit, and an obsession with Doc Martens.
�The Tango is a reversion to the ape, and a confirmation of the Darwin Theory�.
No, that�s the Macarena.
At meeting number two, we attempted to patch together some sort of order for the Lieder concert. It�s going to be a mix of readings, acting, and song, and should actually be a lot of fun. Fun for the pianists, anyway, as we all sit back and watch the singers kick, bite, and scratch each other in the general melee which is bound to occur at around rehearsal three.
Anyway, my part in the concert (apart from playing, or rather, attempting to play piano accompaniments) is to perform Puck�s speech from A Midsummer Night�s Dream�
Think but this, and all is mended.
That you have but slumbered here,
While these visions did appear�.
And so on, and so forth.
The bitter irony is, I�m about the least pixie-like of all the people in this concert. It�s a concert full of sopranos, for heaven�s sake.
