Internet! We still don't have it! In order to remain employed, I have fled to the wireless-friendly environs of Hall Ave., leaving ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
derspatchel to await the dubious mercies of Comcast. [edit: Never mind, we just found out that our modem shipped today. "Your order should arrive within 3–5 business days." I guess I have an office job for the rest of this week. For "office," read "other people's houses." I am not thrilled.] I am now attempting to catch up on work and e-mail. Although not simultaneously, because see above about employment.
The concert went well. I didn't expect it to. The migraine lasted all Saturday into Sunday afternoon, meaning that I went into a performance situation on functionally no sleep and a great deal of pain and unconvinced that I would be able to sing in anything more than the most mechanical of senses. I'm sure that if I hear a recording I will crash immediately back into suicidal despondency over the tone and the phrasing and all the technical failings, but right now I am very pleased with how it went—it's nice that people came up afterward and said complimentary things to me, but it was nicer that I left the stage knowing what had worked. And then I was in the deep green velvet dress I hadn't worn since my brother's wedding and Rob was out of his readthrough, so we met at the house and he put on his black velvet jacket and we went to Cuchi Cuchi for dinner, to celebrate moving and surviving and owning velvet things. A cocktail made of muddled sage, rosemary, gin, elderflower liqueur, and pomegranate is quite possibly my platonic ideal of a drink with fruit in.
I hope we remembered to drink to Lou Reed. There are people who become part of the landscape of their art; he was one of them. It's not even that you need to have collected all their records, or known all their songs. They die and all of a sudden a piece of the sky is visible. Wasn't there just a mountain there? A tree?
The first piece of mail for us at our new address arrived this afternoon. It was payment for a story of mine. We're taking it as a good omen.
Life is in boxes and garbage bags, but it is moving forward.
derspatchel to await the dubious mercies of Comcast. [edit: Never mind, we just found out that our modem shipped today. "Your order should arrive within 3–5 business days." I guess I have an office job for the rest of this week. For "office," read "other people's houses." I am not thrilled.] I am now attempting to catch up on work and e-mail. Although not simultaneously, because see above about employment.The concert went well. I didn't expect it to. The migraine lasted all Saturday into Sunday afternoon, meaning that I went into a performance situation on functionally no sleep and a great deal of pain and unconvinced that I would be able to sing in anything more than the most mechanical of senses. I'm sure that if I hear a recording I will crash immediately back into suicidal despondency over the tone and the phrasing and all the technical failings, but right now I am very pleased with how it went—it's nice that people came up afterward and said complimentary things to me, but it was nicer that I left the stage knowing what had worked. And then I was in the deep green velvet dress I hadn't worn since my brother's wedding and Rob was out of his readthrough, so we met at the house and he put on his black velvet jacket and we went to Cuchi Cuchi for dinner, to celebrate moving and surviving and owning velvet things. A cocktail made of muddled sage, rosemary, gin, elderflower liqueur, and pomegranate is quite possibly my platonic ideal of a drink with fruit in.
I hope we remembered to drink to Lou Reed. There are people who become part of the landscape of their art; he was one of them. It's not even that you need to have collected all their records, or known all their songs. They die and all of a sudden a piece of the sky is visible. Wasn't there just a mountain there? A tree?
The first piece of mail for us at our new address arrived this afternoon. It was payment for a story of mine. We're taking it as a good omen.
Life is in boxes and garbage bags, but it is moving forward.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}