July 7, 2016

Forty years ago today I lay on the operating table in Cleveland Clinic. Seems to have been money well spent. Odd that I never wrote about it, much.

Considered how quickly crosses at the airport turn me into an asshole, as practically nothing else does. I think it was because my first experience with cancelled flights and disasters like a nest of Russian dolls (in Cincinnati) was worsened because the airline people were deliberately lying, and possible remedies became impossible by the time they admitted their foul-ups. The experience imprinted, so now I think that everybody is lying, and a delay means a cancellation, only nobody is brave enough to say so. Was not the case on Tuesday, and was the case only that once. Sigh.

Good weight cycle at the Racquet Club.

At peace because I did not screw up notably at run-through last night, despite missing Tuesday’s rehearsal (which everybody said was a disaster) and despite the first presence of the complete orchestra. And despite monumental phlegm which I put down to having eaten cheese. All the lead singers were criticizing the orchestra backstage for playing wrong tempi and playing flat and what have you. When something goes wrong in my songs, I assume it’s me. Matt (Pilate) said, “But you just go plowing forward no matter what goes wrong in the pit.” Hope that was a compliment. I have no confidence in myself as a Musical star. Significant blocking changes which I have to find a way to incorporate tonight.

The tiger lilies, those spared by the idiot mowers, are in bloom.