Hey, I found out that I worked with a former student of yours. (She doesn't work with me anymore, having moved on.) Tonight I went to a party at her parents' house and met her brother, who is not only a former student of yours, but also will be a fellow teacher come fall. His name is Max, and he said you were one of the reasons he chose to pursue music as a career.It's no surprise, and I have not made such a major effort to remain anonymous on this blog. In fact, by posting my own music, one could say I have made no effort whatsoever. I am curious about this Max. I have taught a lot of Max (plural?)-es over the years, and I can only speculate which Max this might be. One with a sister, which narrows it down somewhat. It is hard for me, today, to think that I might have inspired anyone to do anything but yawn. I feel dull. My deliberate break from composing--from all composing work, no less, including editing, proofreading, etc.--is either indicative that I have crossed a line into a kind of limbo, the inevitable result of years of eroding depression. Or else I am just taking a break. I read a lot into things, and sometimes that is not a good idea.
I have had a number of teaching-related encounters in the last three days, which only serves to remind me that July is nearly over, and thus, summer is more than half gone. Soon enough I will complain about not having enough time, about being over-extended, of having too many commitments. But right now I wish that I had something crucial to attend to. Netflix has disappointed me doubly this weekend. "The Forty Year Old Virgin" was awful, funny only in rare moments; "Garden State" was too cute and predictable and glibly professional.
I am having a tough time summoning up enthusiasm for much of anything right now except to tickle little Hammy who is half curled, sleeping beside me here on the sofa while I type.