I'm a little tired

Disney Hall, Los Angeles (photo courtesy of hazelrigg.biz)

of posting carols and, frankly, a little tired of posting in general. I'm paralyzed, actually, because I just have so much to write I don't know when and where and how much. I'm tempted to number all the things I've been meaning to write about but sometimes this stream of consciousness thing works really well for me and actually begins to help me craft the stuff I write offline so here goes. I went, the other night, downtown to Los Angeles' Disney Hall, the most spectacular venue to hear music that you might ever go to, where inside it's like you're sailing on a giant, blonde, glowing ark or what my friend Sylvia says is like the inside of some animal, the skeleton of the animal all around you, and those things sort of go together, my being on the ark and her inside an animal, perhaps it's Noa's Ark? But we heard Handel's Messiah which, I realize, is really an Easter thing but somehow that Hallelujah chorus just has to be heard at Christmastime and we did wait, patiently for that chorus through all the tenors and the sopranos and the contralto who was a man with the highest, highest voice, so high that my girlfriends and I discussed the difference between a contralto and a castrato and really, that high male voice just doesn't appeal to me and makes me want to burst out laughing like I did with my sister sometimes at church when we were little girls and the set of the lady in front of us -- her hairdo just made us break into silent, shaking peals of laughter. Sticky beautiful spiky stars hung from the ceiling of Disney Hall, and we were floating on the sea of song with the sky and the stars above us and all those beautiful voices and I kept thinking how religious music just HAD to be inspired by some sort of Divine because how else could something so heavenly just emerge from a little man's head? Not to mention that strange and human wonder called a voice. Somewhere in Part II or Part II came the recitation of the phrase and we shall be changed. And it was accompanied all along with the most clear and almost heartbreaking trumpet, like notes suspended high in the air and you could almost see them dropping or perhaps even rising or wafting like smoke in the air. And we shall be changed grew louder and louder in my head until it was all I could think so in order to get through the rest of the concert, I pulled out my little writing book and noted
and we shall be changed. And what's important, somehow, is the word and and I don't really know why. Here it is: