Sydney and I had an okay senior project. It was a concert. In the blackbox.
There were two guitars,
one mandolin,
once cello,
two chairs,
one rug,
one Sydney,
and one Olivia.
Together we made May West and His Gypsy.
We got the name from a couple of lepers in a leper colony. They were dressing up for a Mardi Gras party.
There were many cookies and much coffee.
There were not many people,
but at least Nan and Leann and Jef and Hudson showed up.
My dad recorded the entire thing and then forced me to watch it. It was terrible.
Sydney and I spent too many hours together in the process of working on this project.
It's amazing that neither of us have killed each other or ourselves.
The best part about this project was when we were working on a particular song
and all of a sudden it came together, like a hand clap.
We could make good music. After that, I felt invincible. I could do anyting.
I was content to die.
I'm glad that the stress is over, but hopefully May West and His Gypsy's career is not.
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