Ghosts

In my errand-running about the neighborhood, I often pass the corner market where we regularly shopped in 1967, the year I'd dropped out of grad school "to become a writer" (and succeeded), when I was living with the grad student who'd left with me, as blissfully happy as I've ever been in my life. Well, that house of cards would self-destruct soon enough, but this doesn't erase the memory of those intense times. I became a writer and lost my innocence in successive breaths. In the next, I became a cynic about many things we encounter in living but always tempered by a sense of humor, a notion that the gods are laughing up a jolly good time while watching their playthings.

But the ghost of happiness hit hard as I passed the market today for some reason. As I've said so often, I'm not happy but I'm content and usually the difference doesn't matter much. Now and again it seems to, and I regret the loss. I get over it. There are worse conditions in this life than contentment.

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I've heard from two singers regarding my concept of developing a short pop opera video, and I've seen both of them perform on our opera stages, frankly I'm amazed they're adventurous enough to do something like this, but this is a project I hope to do before school starts. Indeed, I have two "in the works" that I'd like to end my digital summer with. I'm going to throw everything on a DVD finally, Digital Summer 2007.

P.S. And later, from a married couple, young opera singers. Maybe I'll do two different piece, one for each pairing.