I have felt so lazy the past days. I intended to start working on my music, but all I can do is watching films – I received a whole lot that I ordered online. Camp classics, swords and sandals, film noirs, Asian films and very recent ones like Little Miss Sunshine.
I haven’t sung a note for a week. I just see friends and call Andersen every day to see how he’s doing in Italy.
I have talked to Nicole Fallien again on the phone to set another singing lesson for Andersen. We chatted a little and she started asking about me. When she learned I was a composer and wrote for the stage, she immediately mentioned that I should be introduced to the artistic director of La Comédie Française.
I don’t know what to think of it. If it happens, then I’m a happy man. Too many times have I got excited about empty turkeys, I’d rather keep some distance and wait until it actually happens.
In spite of many attempts to talk to Chenva or Desmond, all I could get from them was the privilege to leave a message on an answering machine with no reply. I know they’re both busy people, but I’m seriously starting to wonder whether their original enthusiasm hasn’t cooled down. I’m being the prey of my doubts again. I should wait and be patient. Summer time is usually down time. Now everybody’s away.
At least this little commission from Maëlle will keep me busy. She hasn’t told me anything yet, but I have a clear picture of what I am going to write for her.
It’s an illusion. I take a look around and am shock when I realize that artists mainly glorify their misery. Where is true beauty, this quest for this universal, divine truth? Something we can look up to and find inspiration from? It’s sadly all about appearances. Keeping up appearances. God is dead. Not the God that people have been adoring for centuries. That one is still there.