Last night's kick wax experiment was a failure. New snow in the mid 30s just stinks. Forays at end of day leave no time for major revisions if the first theory fails.
Since almost no one has showed up today, I should be safe going out to skate. It won't be like arriving late at the buffet after everyone else has eaten the best stuff and leaned in the rest of it, leaving it to congeal as the flies gather.
The cellist says this is how musicians playing a gig always find the buffet.
Funny, that. In the stereotype of rock stars, they despoil the buffet and leave the dregs for the roadies. But most musicians are treated like any other servant, expected to produce on demand and stay out of the way the rest of the time.
No comments:
Post a Comment