Swords and vocals

I am listening to Mozart's Magic Flute, the Bei Mannern, welche Liebe fuhlen duet, a baritone and mezzo-soprano wheeling like larks.

My life feels like a tapestry shot with gold.

I brought two swords and a boombox to therapy today. As I was waiting, another client entered. "Hey," he said, his eyes lighting up. "Swords. I didn't know they had those here." "They don't," I said. "You have to bring your own."

Last week, I was sitting in the rainbow-haired guy's office, listening to his band on his website. It had him on guitar & vocals, his wife on bass, and a drum machine. It was driving me nuts. The bass and guitar were good, the vocals were getting there, but the tickety drum machine kept a lid on everything. "You have got to get a drummer," I said. "Drummers are a pain," he began. "You need a good one," I said. "And, you've gotta sing. You're not singing." Affronted, he turned up the volume and began to sing along, to show how much edgier he could get. "No," I said, "SING." I joined in to show what I meant, much more rasty, pushing it. Just as we were getting a good howl going --

-- there came a knock at the door. It was our dev lead, with another developer in tow. "Uh, hate to break up the party," he said, grinning.

Back to work.