Adventures in Bedlam

A Moment of Sadness

Pardon me while I take a moment:

Inspired by the recent Madonna episode of Glee I was listening to some old Madonna songs and came upon this one. It brought on an uncontrollable jag of tears. Not for the obvious reason--I'm still lucky enough to have a mom with whom I see and talk to all the time.

But this song has always had meaning to me, and now, more than ever.

I miss you.

7 Stories

One of the few things I remember from university is a screenwriting teacher telling us that there were only seven stories in the world and that every story was modeled after or was a variation of these seven.

Of these seven stories, I could only ever remember one:  Romeo & Juliet, the tragic story of star-crossed lovers.

I guess Mick got tired of me repeating this little tidbit from my past because this morning I woke up to an email from him giving me this link:

The Seven Stories that Rule the World

What's funny is that "Romeo & Juliet" isn't even on the list--although we surmise that it counts as "tragedy."

Speaking of which:

Have I mentioned how much I love the Bee Gees?

Memories

I'm not sure what triggered it, but today I did a search on YouTube for my former choir director, Paul Salamunovich, and found this:

Okay, I'm not asking you to look at almost 10 minutes of video of a boring chorale/orchestral performance (or am I)?

I just had to post this because I totally remember this performance (I am somewhere on the middle-left, about three rows back) and it brought back such vivid memories of a very important time in my life.

At the time, 1987, I had a very good, clear, soprano voice.  By the time I graduated I was a second soprano.  Now I can hardly sing at all.  Must be all the whiskey and cigarettes.

But most importantly, I want to say that Paul Salamunovich was a very important man in my life.  He was inspiring, unyielding, and completely unforgiving if you missed a note (and if you couldn't sight sing, forget it, get the fuck out of here).  And he could coax the sweetest of sounds out of the most clueless of freshmen.  I know, because I was one of them.  Every rehearsal was a performance, and he explained the music in such a way that it felt like theatre--you weren't just singing, you were acting, you were being the music.  Sound poetic, and in a way I'm sure it is--you know the memory of an eighteen year-girl.  Always romance and flowers.

He is, to use a very tired cliche, the real deal.  And I am so very proud to have been able to work with him.