: Y. graduation rehearsal day. They’re three hundred voices singing in four-part chorus. “This music. We play it during American weddings.” Marches, bows, acceptances, speeches, ups, downs, start again, perfect unison. “You should wear a costume,” K.-sensei said. “Like Superman.” “I’ll bring my Batman suit and fly into the ceremony.” Festival meeting in a board room lined with photographs of a lake gazebo. A., E. and I walk to Mos Burger. They give us yellow cards to grow our own peppermint. Dishes have colonized my kitchen. My night a string of Top Chef.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Vessel Log: 2009 03 11
: Y. graduation rehearsal day. They’re three hundred voices singing in four-part chorus. “This music. We play it during American weddings.” Marches, bows, acceptances, speeches, ups, downs, start again, perfect unison. “You should wear a costume,” K.-sensei said. “Like Superman.” “I’ll bring my Batman suit and fly into the ceremony.” Festival meeting in a board room lined with photographs of a lake gazebo. A., E. and I walk to Mos Burger. They give us yellow cards to grow our own peppermint. Dishes have colonized my kitchen. My night a string of Top Chef.
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