these curves life throws us

My new job starts tomorrow. John and I went out this afternoon and ran a few errands, dropped by my temp agency, went to the bank, and ate frozen custard for dinner. Somewhere in between, he told me (reluctantly) about a civilian euphonium gig that’s just opened up. In Pittsburgh.

Today’s our one-month anniversary. How fitting.

Just to keep it straight for you, this is not a job for John. It’s a job for me. If I got it, I’d be living in Pittsburgh while John stayed in Georgia. Sounds great, doesn’t it?

The chances that I’d win the job are, truthfully, quite slim. It’s a brass band, which is not a style in which I’m well-versed. Requires a lot of monster technical skills and precision, where my strongest points have always been musicality and expression. Those come in handy for brass band performance, but to win the gig I’d need to play damn fast, and perfectly.

Course, back when I could pick up and move across the country at a moment’s notice, I never won any jobs. Now that I am married and settled, it would figure that I’d win a gig a thousand miles away. And yet, the if there’s an open audition, I’ll be there. This is the perfect motivation for me to start practicing again.

What does this say about my priorites? Married for a few weeks and already I’m considering this. So many musicians live away from their spouses and families, do I really want to go through that?

meta-stuff

This morning I finally typed the entries from the 12th and 13th. I don’t remember what I was doing those days, but for whatever reason, I didn’t update. Those are up now.

I also broke down and created a list of the journals I read. I included all the journals I check frequently. There are others that I read sporadically, so as I commit myself to those I’ll add them to the list. If there’s a journal or diary that you think I should be reading, contact me at the link below.

I’ve been told that my poetry was the best part of my site. Gee, thanks, guys. I’ll start putting that stuff back up, then. Oh, here: I unpacked the magnetic poetry and put it on the fridge--have some of that.

Know
concrete steam
change

do you remember sisterly sacrifice

celebrate those delicious clean colors

green men lie

never dance after you crap

easy steel boy must free her for a cup of wet sky breeze

ferocious hole in glass hard universe

almost like my cranky yesterday fever

3 young animal ghost women squirmed as stiffly as a decaying candy prisoner

the woman is her brother

circle the two wild tuba hearts

pierce wood seep

by the way, everything in this WHOLE ENTIRE JOURNAL is copyrighted by ME, so ha ha ha. 1999, Betsy Jones