Good morning, all! I was wide awake around 4:30 and then I slept two more hours, the bartender above me returned home around 6:30, at which time my alarm went off, and now I am bathed and dressed and ready for a schlep to the NYU Dental Clinic. I know I was having a weird dream involving Bruce Pomahac of the Rodgers & Hammerstein Organization, Mary Martin, a Christmas concert by the New York City Gay Men's Chorus, and God alone knows what else. I'm glad the alarm rang.
On Facebook, I got a lovely note from a Carnegie Mellon student who's been a fan of mine since he was a kid (he's what? 21 now?) watching the video of A Tale of Cnderella and he wants to talk to me about a show he's writing. The fact that the show is based on the gothic horror novel of rape, ghosts, religious fanatics, you name it, THE MONK, intrigues me. And it's nice to have a fan.
Re the decision: God knows when and if the Institute in California will resuscitate this project, but I think it's better stay on relatively good terms there, for two reasons: I want to see that score in print and I dislike throwing away 10 years of work. Since the east coat foundation is the one causing the most mental problems for me at the moment, I'm doing my work until September and this recording is in the can. This guy's cruising on thin ice, though: it's the little things that are breaking me down.
