So I am running behind on the whole get-handbell-music-published goals I have set for myself, in that I have sent in zed pieces for submission (although yesterday, by pure chance, I found a publisher who (a) publishes a fair amount of ensemble music and (b) has published a Scott Joplin piece in the past, so I sent her off an e-mail asking if she'd be potentially interested in my "Bethena" quartet, but since I didn't send her the music [because there was no address to do so] that does not count in my book). But this morning, on the way to work, I had a lovely thought: Take "Spring Flowerness" -- which is my favorite of the original bell pieces I've written, but is too short -- and add in a slow, meditative middle section that sounds suspiciously like "Eileen Score No. 4" (the score underneath Kim's, moM's, and me's segments). I bet I can put this together in no more than an hour, and since I have just about exactly an hour between getting home from work and going to bell practice, well, yeah. And then I will pick a publisher tonight and send it off tomorrow.
The problem: "Spring Flowerness" is the suckiest title that ever sucked. I've been trying, while writing a letter asking medical directors to attend a genomics conference, to think of a title that includes both (a) springtime and (b) the happy-sad-happy nature of the piece, but all I've been able to come up with is "Two Roses, One Thorn" which sounds more like the title for a bittersweet love song.
So. If you are the person who comes up with the best title by about 9:00p today Eastern, this piece, if published under that title, will be dedicated to you. In print. And you will be able to take this piece to parties, and you can show it to everyone you meet, and you can say, "Yes, I am the Beth-Annie that this song is dedicated to. Do you have any handbell compositions dedicated to you? I thought not." If I come up with the title, I will be boring and dedicate it to Kim.
I am completely serious about this dedication.
---
Word that Microsoft's spell-checker believes "suckiest" should actually be.
i sincerely do not know what you are doing here. are you lost? were you
looking for your delicate calico cat, and did you follow her up two flights of stairs
to this room? she is not here. she was here, yes. we gave her a warm bowl of milk, we talked with her about campaign finance reform for a time, and then she bid us good day. i believe she was
going to the post office two blocks down, but i don't quite recall.
for surely you did
not find your way from prinsiana, the least traveled site on
the internet. if you did, though, perhaps you are looking for humor. perhaps you are looking for profundity. perhaps you are looking for answers.
i'm sorry, but you shall go naught-for-three.
