Stacy Horn

The roses crashed, and I didn’t have the heart to just throw them away so I put the petals in a bowl. I just realized that this picture, next to ones I took when I first got them, is like this sad cycle of life and death. Isn’t this bowl of petals urn-like?

Yesterday I had one of those days. One thing after another went wrong, among them, Echo’s web server crashing. I had to go down to where we have the server co-located to manually fsck (showing off one of the few unix commands I remember after all these years). I get there and can’t get the keyboard to work. I don’t know what to do. There’s a couple of guys working there on their servers so I go over and ask them if they have a keyboard I can borrow. One guy says “yes,” before I even finish asking the question. He finds a keyboard, brings it over and plugs it in for me, then he gives me a bunch of cables that will make my life easier in the future, tells me what they are for and how to use them, and finally he tells me to keep the keyboard. Because of him I was able to bring the web server that this blog runs on (among other things) back up.

The guy’s name is George Sukkarieh. A happy ending thanks to George Sukkarieh. Thank you, George!! That was way beyond nice of you.

I own this painting by my friend Jonathan Herbert. I want to take it out of the frame I spent a fortune on, because it cuts it off on the left a little, and as you can see, there is no room for any cut-off there.

My undergraduate degree is in fine arts. I wonder what happened to many of my fellow Museum School graduates. Too many years have gone by to remember most of their names, alas. At least one became famous–Nan Goldin. Her work was stunning even then. My one-time roommate Linda Dennis did a painting of a purse I would love to own. I wish it had occurred to me to buy it.

I always wanted to be a writer more, and holy shit, here I am, writing for a living. Who says the universe hates me??

I’m so sad that our performances are over! That’s it. Done. That pleasure is no more. Until next year. Thank GOD for next year. That’s me in my new top. I also bought a new necklace and earrings to go with it. Pretty, no? I love the whole outfit.

I still haven’t decorated for the holidays. The cats are bugging me. “It’s like toys grow on trees during the holidays,” they say. Then, “Wait a minute. Toys do grow on trees during the holidays!”

Merry merry
Merry merry
Just lining up the picture
with these lines!

Flowers and sunlight and …

… a tasty beverage!

My brother Douglas and his wife Robin came to my concert last night and brought me these perfect roses. I’m not sure if the picture really conveys their color, which is this lovely peachy red that I’ve never seen before.

Our director graded our performance, and weirdly, he gave us an “A” for the one piece I thought we completely destroyed (the Gorecki Totus Tuus). Maybe it was just me and the people around me? It was so horribly flat I wanted to die. (Not a comment on me or the people around me, by the way. We are fabulous. It just happens sometimes.) The lowest mark we got was a B+ for the opening Bach piece. I agree with him there. There was something lackluster about it. Our hearts weren’t in it or something. We’ll do better today.

“Might not the arts be not the luxury of a few, but the last best hope of humanity to inhabit with joy this planet?” (Robert Shaw) Our choir director emailed us this quote. He sent it to us last year, too. I love this quote. The answer is yes.

I’m going to be in the front row for our concerts tonight and tomorrow, which means I will actually be SEEN. Of course, I have nothing to wear. The requirements: all black, and demure. I bought two possiblities, a dress and a top, decided I couldn’t afford both, and returned the dress. This is a picture of the dress I returned to Anthropologie yesterday. I couldn’t find a picture of the top I decided to go with. It’s actually almost exactly like this dress, but the sleeves are longer, which I decided was demure-er.

(I wish
the body of the post …
would automatically extent to the bottom of the picture.(