Bleah bleah Pride
So it's Gay Pride day- I'm still tired. I hope taking a shower will help. And putting in new contact lenses always makes me look at things in a new way, so that'll be nice. I had my glasses on last night and every time I passed a mirror I startled myself with the stranger in the glass.
Last night I was, fortunately, still sleepy when it came time for bed. I was afraid I'd be up all night. Of course, now that I think of it, I was up until about 2AM, fixing songs for Lights... I finally finished my Les Miz pastiche for the musical-within-a-musical. I played it for Carlos and he got the joke.
It's actually quite nice music in its own right. Some lovely 3-part contrapuntal stuff.
I finally finished reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower again last night. It's a beautiful book, but hard to read because of the unrelenting melancholy. I played some of The Smiths last night as I read; it was only apropos. I wanted to play my Nick Drake CD, but I couldn't find it; I have so many CDs, it's hard to find the one I want, even if I have my contacts in.
Last night I was practicing my song from As You Like It... Keith came by and was miffed that I'd gotten "That song from Willy Wonka" stuck in his head. He apparently didn't know that "In springtime, the only pretty ring-time..." is originally from As You Like It. Lots of people don't know that; there are a number of references to obscure things in Willy Wonka. I considered writing an "annotated Willy Wonka" script a while ago, but decided against it.
We are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams.
World-losers and world-forsakers,
Upon whom the pale moon gleams;
Yet we are the movers and shakers,
Of the world forever, it seems.
With wonderful deathless ditties
We build up the world's great cities,
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire's glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song's measure
Can trample an empire down.
We, in the ages lying
In the buried past of the earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself with our mirth;
And o'erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world's worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.
-- Arthur O'Shaughnessy
Last night I was, fortunately, still sleepy when it came time for bed. I was afraid I'd be up all night. Of course, now that I think of it, I was up until about 2AM, fixing songs for Lights... I finally finished my Les Miz pastiche for the musical-within-a-musical. I played it for Carlos and he got the joke.
It's actually quite nice music in its own right. Some lovely 3-part contrapuntal stuff.
I finally finished reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower again last night. It's a beautiful book, but hard to read because of the unrelenting melancholy. I played some of The Smiths last night as I read; it was only apropos. I wanted to play my Nick Drake CD, but I couldn't find it; I have so many CDs, it's hard to find the one I want, even if I have my contacts in.
Last night I was practicing my song from As You Like It... Keith came by and was miffed that I'd gotten "That song from Willy Wonka" stuck in his head. He apparently didn't know that "In springtime, the only pretty ring-time..." is originally from As You Like It. Lots of people don't know that; there are a number of references to obscure things in Willy Wonka. I considered writing an "annotated Willy Wonka" script a while ago, but decided against it.
We are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams.
World-losers and world-forsakers,
Upon whom the pale moon gleams;
Yet we are the movers and shakers,
Of the world forever, it seems.
With wonderful deathless ditties
We build up the world's great cities,
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire's glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song's measure
Can trample an empire down.
We, in the ages lying
In the buried past of the earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself with our mirth;
And o'erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world's worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.
-- Arthur O'Shaughnessy