Life is a Carbaret, Old Chum

Yikes.  One week into Spelling Bee rehearsals, and my voice is already on the verge of being kaput.  I’m going to have to be way more careful than normal over the next month.  First step: A ban on singing in the car.  Which breaks my heart, because car-singing is basically my favorite extracurricular activity.

I mean, it’s one of the worst things you can do to your voice, because you’re never thinking about technique or placement or support in there; your brain’s just going “WOOOOOOO LOUD NOISES!!!”  But it’s so damn fun. I screech out notes in the car I would never dream of subjecting an audience to, emoting all over the place, somehow convinced that my dramatic facial contortions are invisible to other drivers despite my being surrounded on all sides by, y’know, glass. There have been some command performances given in my car over the years, gang, let me tell you.  It’s a veritable Albert Hall on wheels.

But NO LONGER.  I’ve kind of got my heart set on not being terrible in this show, and if that means a temporary cessation of all car-cabaret (carbaret?), then so be it.  I’ll just lip-sync in there instead.  The same level of embarrassing ridiculousness with none of the vocal damage.  Brilliant.

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