Catty soprano strikes again.

I’m über sleepy, so this should be short. This term in choir we’re preparing Messiah to perform at the end of November. It is a joint affair, Herr Doktor Professor will prepare us, and we will join forces with another choir in town and their director will conduct the actual performances, one on our own turf, one in a huge, echoey Catholic church in la ville. I am especially bummed out about this project because there are to be professional soloists hired. The other choir always hires professional soloists for its concerts, and they are doing so for this one. I find this unfair to our rather talented singers, as there are a lot of solos that could be divided up rather nicely among the students, but now won’t be. As well, I have it on good authority that the soprano soloist is none other than my arch enemy. I also have reason to believe that this whole project was embarked upon at her instigation so that she could get this gig.

Having said all those unkind and catty things in the above paragraph, I must now say that Messiah is one of those pieces that I could probably do from memory, having sung it many, many times when I was a member of a large choir in Canada’s largest city 30 years ago or so. I sang with them for three years, and we did a whole week of Messiahs every December, including a sing-along. So learning it at the pace that is required by our choir here is going to drive me insane. I think it’s time to talk to Herr Doktor about perhaps joining the group after they’ve learned most of the notes. I’m sure he’ll be down with that.

Little Princess’ band played at the Java tonight, so I went in support. They had a small but appreciative crowd, the rest of the usual audience having been taken up by a concert on campus in the quad, the sound check for which caused the port-a-potties to shake on their bases and the professors in our department to become disgruntled as they couldn’t be heard over the booming of the speakers to lecture. Yesterday a beach volleyball game was in progress in the quad, foot-thick sand piled on a tarp. Today it was all gone. This certainly has turned out to be an extravagant frosh week. I wonder if the student union is trying to make up for the bad rep the strike gave our place during the summer. One never knows.

After getting all their gear packed away, I brought Ed home with me and made him some mint and agrimony tisane to soothe his beleaguered mucous membranes. I also split up my stash of the latter herb and gave him a bunch in a ziplock baggie. He was quite grateful. And now to bed I hie.

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