chunks

12-13-99

Went to the band concert tonight. Man. I think I might suggest to the director (who recognized me, so I can't get out of this) that I might play trombone instead of euphonium for the band. They already have three "baritones," one of whom was kind of a jerk at TubaChristmas last weekend. He shot John and me dirty looks while we warmed up. Playing trombone would offer me more of a challenge, and my section members would feel less intimidated than if they heard me playing euphonium.

So what am I saying? The band su...I mean, isn't that...uh...advanced.

After the conccert I took my sorry ass up to the stage and met the band director at the private school that hosts the community band. Turns out she's been searching for a brass instructor all year. I'm pretty much set up, if she calls me back. So if I'm teaching Wednesdays and Fridays, with a band rehearsal Monday nights, maybe I can teach at the same school on Monday afternoons? I hope so. My Thursdays are tied up with dog stuff and Tuesday's my only day off. Maybe I'll quit my day job sooner than I think....

I had a giggling fit today in the post office. No reason, nothing was funny at all. John was mortified. "You're embarrassing me!" he muttered. I just laughed like hell.

It started over lunch today and continued through an hour's worth of pool. John wants me to write a novel. Actually, he wants me to write short fiction, but we got involved in character description and the whole thing escalated. John started to write something of his own a few years ago, then decided he sucked and gave up. Now he's making me write the story for him.

He's gotten into it, and the idea intrigues me. I'm just afraid that once I write it, I'll show it to him and he won't like the parts that differ from the story in his head. I'm just a tool.