top of page
Search
  • Writer's pictureChoo Choo

Le pain quotidien


Exhaustion is getting home after a ten hour day (and another one the day before, and a fourteener the day before that) and collapsing into a dead sleep on the couch without even bothering to take off your shoes or pet the cat who has come to nudge and lick your face with maternal worry.

It's days like these, especially right after I wake up from one of these addling corpse naps, when I have to remind myself that I have the best job in the world, that I get to go to work every day and play Bach and Beethoven and Verdi and I get to practice and rehearse Ravel and Messiaen and learn any number of extended techniques and awesome instruments for my beloved new music ensemble, and if I'm lucky like I was today, still somehow have time to make pasta with chard and roasted tomatoes for lunch, and take out the recycling, and update this dastardly diary that 0% of the populace reads.

So I rub the sleep from my eyes and make some homemade potato salad which I've been craving all day and eat approximately half of the very large bowl of it and in my carbohydrate-induced stupor I await tomorrow's impending twelve hour day.

#pasta #music #life

3 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Where does the time go? One minute I'm fretting about not having enough to do, the next I'm buried under a mountain of repertoire because I simply can't stop saying no to people. Someday I'll figure o

Suddenly half a year has gone by. "You'll write more," you tell yourself, greeting every day with a promise that "Today will be the day I start on that story/essay/novel" and every day the same ending

In an early post from this blog, dated December 30, 2013 (almost nine years ago to the day), I wrote: "The week between Christmas and New Year's is one of my favorites. Nothing too pressing ever happe

bottom of page