I had time to finish my entry (and the Beta Band s/t disc) Sunday morning before bursting out for banana french toast breakfast and Sublime. Somehow all of that only left two hours to read another chunk of Mead before I headed to campus at three, as I had promised myself I would, to practice. Cabaret rehearsal was at four. It was cute to see pretty much the whole cast there singing with us, and I think we outnumber them. I also played accordion for the first time at rehearsal, with two supporting actors who seem a bit young for their parts, on "It couldn't please me more" and "Married." Ran over as the rehearsal ended at 6, but it was too late to gain admittance to the directing night of scenes until the second half, so I went back and played some more accordion and put the drums away. I did get to see the second scene, "An Actor's Nightmare" featuring the always-appropriately-named Matt Fitting (crossword clue - 2D curator's gallery preparation) as George Spelvin, and Celia, Juliet, Ben Camp, Sam Bartner (peripheral or recent acquaintances). Funny as planned. Afterwards, Rebecca handed me a bunch of bananas on which everyone commented, Alex regretted I hadn't seen his performance, we all flitted about and decided to go to Tarble. As Alyssa and Ben and I waited in line (me for a blt-grilled chicken sandwich that I ended up taking home to heat properly), we threw around ideas for our next party, including the name by which it currently goes, Spring Loaded (one word or two? capitalized?) in Worth courtyard, lights in the trees; hopefully we can get lodgies to throw a simultaneous but nominally unrelated wet party indoors. Either way, it ought to be really fun and possibly transcendant.

Alyssa and I eventually did make it back here, not even too long before Matt showed up back from New York, later than anticipated but earlier than expected, with splendid and sordid tales of the board of managers meeting. We got public safety to open Olde Club and had ourselves a fine old rehearsal, pinning down "Metamorphosis" quite nicely I think (it's gotten totally Nuggets, complete with organ hook and solo, stop time breaks, half-step modulation, violent energy despite attempts at restraint), restructuring "Homosexuals" (which if it comes off right should be both cathartic and preposterous) and churning out a rock-solid arrangement for "Composition B in Blue" (no longer than two minutes.) Together with "Lullaby" (which we spent a couple minutes on, and for which Joel is working out lyrics) and Matt's new harmonica-and-accordian roots ballad ("Straight Hair and Jeans"?) should make up a nice five-song set for Rose Tattoo, assuming that our Thursday rehearsal goes as smoothly. A problem is that we can't really do any of my tunes, since I'm stuck behind the drum kit without a relief pitcher (although I might play piano on Matt's new one.) But one way or another, "Word Games," "Nineteen Years," and the others (my current conception for the song about Jess and Dave is veering towards string quartets and bluesy funk) will get their stage debuts before too long - "Takeoff" just needs a logistical solution.

After that, Matt joined me on my bed for some Sunday night reading to the delectable strains of Múm (his newest purchase and love affair, an Icelandic group that falls somewhere between The Twin and The Rós), Jim O'Rourke (only a few tracks, which had him sold instantly), and Cornelius (the new, grandmotherly incarnation; not the old untenable toddler one). Samoa but I wanted Alyssa in the same room as me, so we salsa'ed to one of the bossa-nova'y cuts towards the end, then read, then slept i think.

sell to them a killing jam
attack to get it back