I may have made a thrifting miscalculation today when I bought vintage denim culottes, complete with mom-waist. I bought them to sell, but they fit perfectly, so now I feel all confused. I am in fact wearing them right now, as a sort of audition before I go to bed early. I cannot seem to get enough sleep these days.
Opera camp has been going splendidly, though it is weird not to have much time to myself. I am accustomed to having a lot of it. But I also know that I function much better when I have more on my plate, so I'm feeling good right now. Well maybe not right now, given that I am wearing the mom-culottes and am confused about them. But mostly, overall, I feel good. Like every gig, I will have the "what now" when it's over, but this time I get to go to England: my what-now period will be eaten up by travel preparation. Mostly, I need to shop for comfortable shoes. My feet are officially getting old and demanding comfort footwear on a more ongoing basis, yet I still have a lust for slightly ridiculous shoes. I know what you're thinking, and I'll answer you right now: yes it IS hard to be me.
Thanks to one of my pianist colleagues at the opera, I had a memory lane trip that I have just revised and expanded with the help of Google. See, for about a month in 1988, I was in an R & B band fronted by a driven young 13 year old who now has a crazy website. This is no joke. I am proud of her even though she is wearing buttfloss on her website, because she has all of the self-marketing mojo that I lack, and then some. And girl, I apologize for blowing your age cover by revealing that we were 13 in 1988.
I do believe our band was called "Ice."
Anyway, what brought this all crashing back today was my pianist colleague--the same guy who suggested that my "first day of opera camp" outfit was great because it looked like a 70s detergent box--singing a little Janet Jackson, specifically "When I Think of You," which was and is a great song. It has come up more than once in the last week, in fact. We were actually discussing The Jacksons today, and how Jermaine has a son called "Jermajesty," which is funny every single time I think about it. "I like to think about Tito," my friend said. "Like what is he doing right now?"
"Eating a McRib sandwich," I posited.
But back to Janet. My short-lived stint as an R & B keyboardist was based on the totally false premise that I was a good piano player. I had taken 5 years of piano at that point, and this remains the sum total of my piano instruction. I had also been roped into improvising an accompaniment to my junior high choir rendition of "Lean On Me," the Club Nouveau version. I am sure that I sucked, but this solidified my reputation as a pianist.
So the singer convinced me to come to a practice in her basement, where the gear was all set up, her dad was playing the bass, and I was given the music for "When I Think of You." For the keyboard player, this involves like three chords, which I immediately memorized, creating a further false impression that I was some sort of genius. I was also allowed to sing a verse, which I am certain I did with my burgeoning whitegirl vibrato.
Later, the singer's mom quizzed me on what whitefolks eat for dinner and found that tacos are pretty universal. This detail was, I think, my pianist friend's favorite part of the story.
I have removed the culottes and now I am going to bed.