weekend end
A certain air temperature, when combined with the smell of diesel fumes, to this day brings to mind nothing other than marching band. Similarly, when I have anxiety dreams, they’re just as likely to be about showing up two weeks into band camp without knowing any of my music or drill as they are to be about showing up most of the way through the semester and know that I haven’t been going to class at all.
Last night I packed up with my mother and sister/her family and watched some marching bands play at Mt. Lebanon High, home of lots of lighted signs that say “LEBO.” It wasn’t a competition, which was a little disappointing to me since a big part of band for me was competitions and ajudication tends to add a level of intensity to a show that otherwise might be missing. Regardless, the bigger bands especially were really good — while Mt. Lebanon’s percussion ensemble is amazing, I’d posit that Bethel Park was the best band there (and that’s not just becuase my nephew is in that band, at least I don’t think it is). Competition or none, there’s an epic quality to a good marching band show that persists even if the band is playing disco hits or, as my old band is doing this year, Cirque du Soleil.
In other news, I cleaned my room, AND had tons of awesome dreams last night. I won’t go into too much detail — in fact I won’t go into ANY detail. Just imagine. Okay one of them involved taking a boat to France to visit Jacques Derrida (apparently still alive, in dream-world) at the chapel (where he apparently lives, in dream-world). That’s all you’re getting.