For me, Thursday marked the end of a few days spent writing a grant proposal for a project we’re all excited about. It has sparked some intense discussions, and I think we must all be getting smarter just for having attempted the proposal.

I left the crew at the Skinners’ house and went downtown for the annual New Music Collective fundraiser. They are one thing about Charleston that I really miss, and it’s always great to do music projects with them when we’re all in town. The event was fun. One of their sponsors was serving vodka and what seemed to me like sky-blue red bull. The blue stuff was marketed as an antioxidant/aphrodisiac. The guy pushing the cancer-fighting, pants-dropping drink came on strong, and the six-two ft. tall model next to him, blonde and wearing a clinging sweater dress, sensed my hesitation–so she launched into speech about the drink’s cancer-fighting power (nearly approved by the FDA), and when she whipped out the bibliography, well, I was sold, so I took a glass and went inside to join Karen. She thought the blue stuff tasted like Kool-Ade.

After a few awkward introductions with strangers, Karen and I took seats inside to listen to the music. Quentin Baxter, bad ass drummer extraordinaire, played for a while. The TA crew expressedly requested that I record him playing, but the audio on my camera stunk. It was drowned out in the din of food-table socializing that reverberated through the concrete and steel warehouse. Later in the evening, the NMC came together to play a piece by Terry Riley, and as there were many more instruments, including a front line of horns, I came away with a much better recording, well, as good as my camera can take. Listen to the audio here:

Today my mother, sister Kristen, nephew Trent, and Nellie the dog came to pick me up from Karen’s, and we came home to a beautiful day. Since my father redesigned and extended the deck, the backyard is my favorite place to be at my folks’ house. We hung out outside pretty much all day, and Trent, Kristen, Annie from next door and I played a game of basketball. Oh, and the kids ate all of the cookies I bought for $50 at the fundraiser. That’s what a fundraiser’s for, anyway.

Goodnight.