Tag Archives: singing

Dear Carrboro,

You continue to treat me well. Since my last entry I have some new regular activities including Sunday “church” singing with the Shape Note Singers of Research Triangle Area, Monday Argentine Tango classes with Tangophilia, Tuesday clogging with Cane Creek Cloggers, Wednesday old-time jams at Nightlight, and Friday contra dances. Chloe has promised to get me lindy hopping too which will be cool, I think those are Saturdays. The irregular activities more than fill in the other nights.

I move to my new place Thursday. I’ll miss squatting at the estate, but will be here much in the future too. Me and the estate boys are starting our own Shape Note quartet.

Oh yeah, it looks like I might have a contract job now too.

And a first date tonight.

Sincerely,

never grow old (where we’ll) never grow old

I’m settling into Carrboro nicely. I’m crashing at Peter’s house for now, and moving to a very nice room down the street in a couple of weeks. There is no internet here, but if the wind direction and speed are correct and I hold the compee just right I can borrow the neighbors’.

Tonight was the inaugural meeting of the Cheek Street Shape Note Singers. We are three, and the music has four parts, so we need one more, but the sound was there. The other two guys are music majors, so they didn’t use the solfège, but I’ll convert them yet. We pulled off Northfield (How Long Dear Savior), Idumea (And Am I Born To Die), and Where We’ll Never Grow Old.

No job yet, but I have a couple of leads with a couple of local internet companies. I’m drinking a very nice Duck-Rabbit milk stout and about to head to dream land.

convoluted retreat center dream

Wow. Last night’s dream was so complicated, I don’t know where to start. I was in a compound for some kind of retreat. I remember so many things going on, but not how they flowed together. I wanted to change into shorts, but didn’t have underwear; went into a locker room but there were too many people in there. Three boys were singing the tune to “Pretty Little Bird” while being percussive on the lockers. My high school gym teacher (Laughter?) explained the plans in case of an air attack; we were to go into the bunkers that were eight feet underground. I asked if I could dig a couple more feet for mine. Katie from middle school gave me a big hug, her father standing behind me had a huge beard; they were waiting for some more people to come.