Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

I'm really tired but too awake, so this is going to be long and rambly.

I went to my mother's house. Traffic was strange for a weekend on that route. She wasn't home. I talked to my youngest brother for a while. Then Mom came home and I got to talk to her very briefly because it was about time for me to head over to Greenbelt, and because she had another thing to go and do. Then I went to Greenbelt.

Concert went pretty well. silmaril was there (Yaaay!) with her mom and sister and Breno. We had a large/small crowd. It was a small crowd, but for the size of the establishment it was a decent crowd. I was not unhappy. We played; I flirted with the audience a bit and got really sweaty. I sometimes remark that what we play is "perspirational music". The richer the sound of this music, the more it incites me to move, so I'm more inclined to jump around when the full band is there ... and on the tiny stage I hadn't much room to move ... but despite the lack of space and our being less than half the band, I still got my exercise and worked up a serious sweat. Part of that is just that I play Scottish music rather vigorously, and part is that it makes me want to move my feet and my body when I play it. A little girl was the only audience member to actually get up and dance, but as her parents remarked during our break, she was also the only one small enough to dance in the small space crowded with tables.

At the end of the show, we sold a few CDs and I spoke to the parents of the little girl about my opinions and impressions of The Key School, which I gave a glowing review. (It would have to have changed very very much since the time I went there, for it not to be a really great school in several regards.) When I packed up and left, I was exhausted but also all keyed-up with that post-performance gotta-do-something feeling that I'm sure all actors and most other musicians will recognize. And I really wanted a chocolate eclair.

Drove back to Baltimore in more atypical traffic, and went looking for a convenience store. On the way the thought struck me that I also wanted a glass of stout. But I'm all out of stout. I have some other ale in my fridge that I bought for cooking, but I really wanted a Mackesson Triple Stout or a bottle of Todd's homebrew porter. No other beer would do -- I wasn't in a Skull Splitter mood, for example, even though I'm quite fond of Skull Splitter (not that it would have mattered, since I'm out of that, too). No, it had to be Mackesson. But by that hour of the night, the kinds of liquor stores that stock that stout (and no, Guinness wouldn't cut it, sorry) were closed. At least the ones I know about. So no beer for D'Glenn. The cooking ale stays in the fridge because it's The Wrong Beer For Tonight.

Funny thing is that if you'd told me a dozen years ago that I'd write the preceeding paragraph, I would've said, "No, no, that doesn't sound like me." Back then, I hadn't discovered beers I could actually want yet.

Anyhow, after one trip to where I thought I remembered a High's that turned out to be a false memory, I headed toward Catonsville where I knew I could find a Seven-Eleven. As I headed toward the donuts, a man in line tried to catch my attention. After he succeeded, he said, "Where were you playing today?" Turns out he'd seen us at the Beattie-Kramer Festival in Frederick a couple of years ago, and recognized me. (The kilt, pirate shirt, and blue hat being sort of a stage uniform for me probably helped.) That was pretty cool.

The donut (not quite what I wanted, because they were out of proper eclairs) fortified me enough that I decided I could deal with going to a grocery store after all -- I also wanted bananas and a few other things, but thought I was too tired to buy groceries -- so I went a bit further out of my way and hit the Giant on 40. (There was an Absolutely Huge, shaggy, white dog resting on the sidewalk in front of the store with his leash lying next to him. I don't think I've ever seen That Much Dog in one place without there being at least twelve legs and three tails, but no, this was all one dog. Quite startling.) Much to my surprise, the salad bar was open. I thought every place packed up their salad bar by mid-evening. Well it was a good thing anyhow, because I did in fact have a hankering for a salad.

One of the employees there saw my outfit and asked me where I sang -- turns out he associated the look (and probably more to the point, the renaissance and medieval garb he's seen me in on other occasions) with madrigal singing, which he used to do. I explained that I was mostly an instrumentalist and that I'd performed earlier with a Scottish band, and then we talked about singing and what I'd like to improve about my own singing, and musical theatre, and related stuff.

Then another customer wanted to know whether I was Scottish or Irish, and what part of Scotland or Ireland my people were from, so I explained that my ancestry is part English, part Irish, part Scottish, part Welsh, and half Greek Cypriot, but the reason I was dressed up was because I'd had a concert, and by the way this kilt is Scottish, and gee, a lot of people wouldn't have known that there are Irish kilts as well as Scottish. Turns out he's part Irish (and even more of a mix than I am).

So I finally got home kind of late, even more tired, but feeling like I'd "done something" instead of going straight home. What I'd done was talk to a handful of people, mostly about the band ... it worked. So now I'm winding down toward bed, using this public-babbling as the way to wind down.

And that's about done it. I think I'm now ready for bed. Here's hoping I fall asleep as quickly as it feels like I'm going to.