Thursday, September 07, 2006

Enter, to music



Today was my first day of school. Ever.

I'm taking a first year course in music composition at the university, hoping to expand my horizons of creative ineptitude. Taking it to a whole new level, yessir. Anyway, in the class there are miraculously two people I used to know. One is what we in the business call "clownspawn," and is, rather, the son of local entertainers in that veign. The other is a young man whom I knew in my little league baseball years, my principle memory being the time when he took a bat to the back of the head (don't worry, it wasn't me [I knew you were thinkin' it]).

The prof. is a nice enough, rather erudite and obscure fellow. Subtract forty odd years, he's me. In any case, I'm quite convinced this course will require me to do things that most would consider interesting. This week's assignment: write a one-minute composition for a 20-piece ensemble. Use only the note A.

Whaaaaaaat?

Yes, only the note A. You may use any octave or combination thereof so long as the instrumental ranges suffice. "Anything goes."

What fun!

IN OTHER, SADDER EVENTS

Crocodile Hunter and professional wildman Steve Irwin is murdered in cold blood by a stingray sociopath. Steve brought a certain wacky, compounded enthusiasm for nature and wildlife to our TV screens, for which he will not be soon forgotten. Many loved his sundry programming and feats of derring-do. I was one of them. Yes, in my early nature-freak phase I subsumed my consciousness religiously with helpings of Mr. Croco-hunter, protector of the wild, guardian of the scaly, wrestler of the aquatically toothsome. What a guy. I'll say it again, what a guy.

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