February 2, 2024

Moving on from Imbolc. 

Made my one-year-later visit to the optometrist, and, in a flood of regret and indignation, declared that her terrible glasses were wrong and I’ve suffered from them for a precious year of my life. I demanded that she duplicate my previous prescription, which was fine except for some sort of film peeling off and clouding the lenses. Somewhat to my surprise, after doing all the things she needed to charge me for, she agreed. She said they had miscalculated how much of the lens should be for far and how much for near. In any case, until the new arrive, I’m back to the smeary glasses I gave up last year. The sense of limitation and “wrongness” I had with the “new” pair have already disappeared. I can read street signs. I can drive at night without squinting and staring. I would not have come so close to failing my driver’s test. Already it’s better. I’m too patient, too reluctant to make a fuss. The end of that is that when I finally do make a fuss, it’s too loud. 

Paradox that GMC rehearsals are infuriating but fun. The musician in me is infuriated; the guy wanting to have fun with his buddies is pleased enough. Director lashes out at those who want new music, things we haven’t done fifty times before. Don’t understand her vehemence. It would seem to me that THAT recommendation, at least, would be uncontroversial. What is forgotten is that part of the formation of the group at the outset was self-improvement, expansion of experience with the repertoire. That, among other things, left in the dust. S has too many irons in the fire to learn new things. We sound pretty good but are, repertoire-wise, stagnant and wasted. 

Boys were playing basketball in the All Souls court when I left rehearsal, in full night, so I hoped there was enough ambient light, but they were laughing and hollering, so all was well light or no. 

Surprisingly, I’m a fan of doo-wop. Love singing dum dum de dum de dum down at the bottom of the scale. 

Attended C’s funeral service, along with enough others to pack the church to the rafters. C was a woman of efficient good works, more useful to her community than a dozen others. Sat beside M, who spent the time relating the deceased’s kindnesses toward her. I realized I spend half my time drinking out of mugs with her business’s imprint.