OK. I'm going to try
NaBloPoMo again. If anything, it will be a good exercise in writing and self-discipline, right?
I've been rather silent here about personal things, but if we are friends on Facebook, you'll know that Allan and I have a pretty rich social life. I suppose one could blame Facebook on what seems to be an across-the-board lassitude with blogging. I'm not the only blogger who's cut way down on posting. To some degree I suppose it's true: Facebook has a more immediate feel to it, plus, you can really control who sees what you post there.
In any case, let me write a bit about an activity (and a big part of that rich social life I mentioned) that's held me captive (in a good way) for the past 8 months. I'm in a marching band. I play the flute.
This is not just fanfares and John Philip Sousa. This is funked up music performed by some of the most creative people I've ever met. We play music written by Quincy Jones, James Brown, Squirrel Nut Zippers, and Edgar Winter, among others. We have a troupe of dancers called hoop girls, who accompany us with joy, grace, and beauty.
We've been noticed, too. We were asked to play at Louisville's Forecastle Festival this past summer, and last night we held the attention of 1000 people who were at Buster's to see Man Man.
But this isn't just about patting the collective group on the back. (Although, seriously, people? We. Are. Awesome.) It's about how much pleasure I get from playing music again, performing for people, seeing their reactions to the marching band (which really ought to have air quotes around the "marching" part; we strut and mosey and dance), and feeling the creativity and love pouring out of my fellow band mates.
It's hard to find the words to express all my feelings about the March Madness Marching Band. I'm out of practice with writing, and feel I'll fail if I even try to explain. And while it might sound hyperbolic, I'm pretty sure this is one of the best things that's ever happened to me.
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