“Strange! that you should not have suspected years ago—centuries, ages, eons, ago!—for you have existed, companionless, through all the eternities. Strange, indeed, that you should not have suspected that your universe and its contents were only dreams, visions, fiction! Strange, because they are so frankly and hysterically insane—like all dreams...”
— Mark Twain, The Mysterious Stranger
“A comedy about killing people? Like, that is just so awful.”
— Lana Todd in Why Begins With W
Word just in from an old, old schoolmate—and we may have found a home for a brass quartet or two, and even for the soon-to-be-completed quintet, Sleepyheads, Wake Up!
Il barbiere ladro has struck up a fresh friendship; pending the return of the other party (the party of the second part) from the west coast.
Thanks to the ongoing championship of Ensemble Aubade, my Oxygen Footprint will float among the Green Mountains a week from Sunday, in Weston, Vermont. And the composer will be in attendance!
Methought this would be the summer of being able to get together with some pianist, any pianist, to read the Sonata for Clarinet and Piano. The summer is not yet concluded, but faith, it is looking none too promising. Its day will come. But, not this month.
E-mail confirmation has come in that my submission of Quijote and the Scarecrow has been received. And a decision should be made by 1 September. One hopes, though the breath be not held.
And my arrangement of Precious Lord will be sung in Delray Beach, Florida on 22 October.
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