At least it's an _interesting_ term paper.
1934: "[Louis] Armstrong's lip splits on a London stage. He retires in Paris for eight months."
It never occurred to me that that was an occupational hazard for trumpet players. Damn, man. Damn.
"While in Europe, Armstrong fires his current manager Johnny Collins. Collins retaliates by taking Armstrong's passport back to America leaving Louis "high and dry" in Europe without a passport."
...*snicker*
So... *procrastinate procrastinate* Prism Concert was today (that's the Music Department's annual "Holiday Concert," which this year had an assload of Christmas pieces and one... Kwanzaa piece.).
Had a solo. Did... pretty damn well. *preen; flex* I'm beginning to really, really enjoy performing, for its own sake-- just getting into a space where it's me and everyone watching me, and where it's up to me to make damn sure I keep their full attention the whole time I'm singing. Knowing that it's my voice that's doing that. It's very heady. Also nerve-wracking, but in a fun way. O_o I wasn't fully "out there" between phrases, because it was me and the whole choir behind me, but I didn't fuck anything up by any means. (Shouldn't have worn the choker, though; even though I'd loosened it, it constricted enough when I sang to be a distraction.)
Madrigal Dinner's also over (thank god). More stuff to do this week, but it's winding down, certainly. I'll need some chemical assistance to make it through tonight, but Tuesday I can sleep way in, so I think it'll be all right. Back to the grindstone now. *whistle whistle*
It never occurred to me that that was an occupational hazard for trumpet players. Damn, man. Damn.
"While in Europe, Armstrong fires his current manager Johnny Collins. Collins retaliates by taking Armstrong's passport back to America leaving Louis "high and dry" in Europe without a passport."
...*snicker*
So... *procrastinate procrastinate* Prism Concert was today (that's the Music Department's annual "Holiday Concert," which this year had an assload of Christmas pieces and one... Kwanzaa piece.).
Had a solo. Did... pretty damn well. *preen; flex* I'm beginning to really, really enjoy performing, for its own sake-- just getting into a space where it's me and everyone watching me, and where it's up to me to make damn sure I keep their full attention the whole time I'm singing. Knowing that it's my voice that's doing that. It's very heady. Also nerve-wracking, but in a fun way. O_o I wasn't fully "out there" between phrases, because it was me and the whole choir behind me, but I didn't fuck anything up by any means. (Shouldn't have worn the choker, though; even though I'd loosened it, it constricted enough when I sang to be a distraction.)
Madrigal Dinner's also over (thank god). More stuff to do this week, but it's winding down, certainly. I'll need some chemical assistance to make it through tonight, but Tuesday I can sleep way in, so I think it'll be all right. Back to the grindstone now. *whistle whistle*