So I check my email before going to have a shower and off to bed... and there is an email from the conductor saying "be off book by Saturday". AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH!!!! You ugly mofo, I only have five hours of sleep between now and Saturday rehearsal as it is, why couldn't you tell us this on Tuesday? Oh yeah, cause you're an artiste and you don't plan ahead. I crie

I'm awake. AGAIN. This would be a good day for people to stay the fuck out of my way.

I'm such a good cook, I just screwed up making a cup of microwave mac and cheese. Ouch... my ego. And I just realized, too, it's a Zionist microwave mac and cheese cup. Some days you just can't win.

Me: Google.

Google: Yes, Dave.

Me: When did hominins speciate from apes?

Google: Where does pubic lice come from?


Hmmmmmmmm... Listen, Google. Around here *I* ask the questions.

“Failing organizations are usually over-managed and under-led.” - Warren Bennis (who clearly must have worked at Home Depot before)

I set five alarms on my phone and slept ten hours. And still slept in. I'm tired.

That smug feeling when the bus drives past a gas station and gas is up 8 cents from yesterday.

Home Depot turns out to be a surprisingly good place to practice your opera part. It's noisy, you're running around in all directions, you don't have time to focus on the music, and orders change with alarming frequency. The only downside is having to sing sotto voce.

I need a nap. It's still called a nap if it's over 16 hours, right?

Well, I hope the extra hour and a half practice makes up for the hour and a half of sleep I didn't get... I now have less than four hours to sleep, then four-hour rehearsal, then work. It was time, I felt, for an agonizing reappraisal of the whole scene.

The one thing that still always reminds me of Hay River is...

...

...

...

the sound of a pile driver. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRGHHHHHH!

I just want you to know that Gaza is more important than some one-note actor who didn't think having everything was good enough.

Exhausted but never defeated... She is now 85 days past the 90-day average survival time, and just 13 days away from turning 15. Today she wanted to sleep in my bed with me so I never got out of bed all day. Who cares? I can be productive when she's gone. She doesn't seem to suffer at all. It's unbelievable how much indomitable strength there is in this tiny emaciated body.

You know what's more annoying than constant software updates? Software updates that ask to install themselves and then don't. Thank you, Firefox.

Good thing I slept 18 hours when I could, because after that the dog woke me every 45 minutes on average until I tied her to the piano.

Opera director: Your dog is still in the burning house!

Me: Yes!! I've been waiting six months for her to die.

=== Later. ===

Opera director: The president has died!

Me: Harper died? YES!!

=== Later. ===

Opera director: You enter house left.

Me: Ok.

Opera director: Places! (I go house left.) What are you doing here?

Me: You said house left.

Opera director: Oh, sorry, I lied.

Me: So... house right?

Opera director: No no, house left.

Me: So you lied the second time, not the first?

Opera director: Yeah.

All laugh.

Opera director: Do as I say, not as I say.

Me: O... k...

=== Later. ===

Me: What's my mood?

Opera director: You're really, really tired. And sad.


Wow, finally a direction I can relate to! But then I forgot to ask whether it's a cross or a banana.

K. I just spent two hours on 80 seconds of music of which I sing exactly ten (10) notes. Opera's hella hard, yo.

Things you didn't know about opera: the most commonly asked question in an opera rehearsal is "is this a cross or a banana?"

This is the hardest part of the whole opera. If you can't hear my line it's ok, neither can I.

Eight hours work. Two hours off. Five hours opera rehearsal. Three hours off. 18 hours sleep. Two hours opera practice.

Me gusta.