Stacy Horn

My friend Dimitra took this picture of the people who went on the stage at the end of Hair. I’m in there somewhere. I know I’m in the back right. I was sitting in the mezzanine, so I had to come down stairs and enter the stage from the back. I had no interest in pushing my way up front, so I stayed back there, happily singing and dancing with all the other people.

Today I sign the contracts for something I think I’ll be able to talk about shortly. It’s exciting news for me. Nothing may come of it, but potentially something might!

The feeder has been empty for two hours, but as I type the doves are still going at it. No one is spreading the word, apparently.

I took this picture this morning, when there was still plenty of food.

Oh. Rain. Birds gone.

I just realized, So You Think You Can Dance won’t be tonight. What is the point of Wednesdays without it? NONE. Whatever shall I do tonight? READ?? Just kidding, I love to read. But I’m very slow these days. I am turning back to Musicophilia. I just finished re-reading Mildred Pierce for the billionth time. Mildred Pierce is in my top ten favorite books of all time.

If you’ve never read it you MUST give it a try. It’s not what you think. It’s not noir or anything like his other books.

I don’t think this picture really captures the chaos outside my window every morning. It calms down after an hour, thankfully. But there were many more birds around off to all the sides when I took this shot, all dive bombing the feeder. Oh dear, they’re back. Honestly, I have very mixed feelings about having this feeder. I would feel differently if I felt rich!

I put my handmade litterbox down for a second, upside down, and Buddy, being a cat, immediately goes inside.

This is a view from my roof, looking uptown. I’ve got three famous buildings in view: the Empire State, the Pan Am … okay, the Metlife building, and the Chrysler.

So today it’s supposed to hit 90 which absolutely sucks. 90, I hate you. And all of you other degrees above, too.

I planned to go to a sing of the Faure Requiem tonight, but the church is never air conditioned so I might pass, depending. John Maclay, the director of my choir, is conducting though. For those of you who don’t know about sings, during the summer choir people get together for a group sing of various choral favorites. It’s not a performance and anyone who wants to go can, whether they can sing or not.

I went to a sing of Mozart’s C Minor Mass a couple of weeks ago, which was harder than I had remembered. Sorry everyone around me!

I love requiems, and the Faure is an interesting one. It’s less death-y. My favorite requiem, the Brahms, you don’t forget for one second what you’re singing about, but the Faure, it’s not like you forget, but it’s lighter, more soothing.