A taste of my libretto So I've been madly writing this libretto for an opera on the life and death of Negro Leagues great Josh Gibson. It's called "The Summer King," a reference to the summers Gibson and many other black players spent in Mexico, Cuba, Dominican Republic, where bigger paychecks and greater acclaim awaited them.
My composer Daniel Sonenberg and I worked out a treatment that centers around his last day alive, a series of visions from his past, threading around it the legend of his 1930 home run in Yankee Stadium, which is thought to be the only ball hit clear out of the stadium.
Here is an aria of Josh's when he realizes where his life has taken him -- it's a sonnet, in case you don't notice.

waiting for the shuttle: last night.it is cold outside. waiting for the shuttle kinda sucks nuts. or balls. or balls with nuts. there are about six people other than myself at this particular shuttle stop. i wonder if they hate cold weather as much as i do. there is one girl that happens to be standing near me. but i am sitting on the curb. so i can only see her feet. she has black shoes on. with a square front part of the shoe. like pilgrim's shoes but without the buckle. i can tell that this little pilgrim is cold. and all i can see of her are her legs and feet. i can tell that she is cold because her legs are shaking. trying to keep warm. i can see her shivering through her kinda-designer jeans.4921. that is the address of the building across from my shuttle stop. this was the first time that i had noticed the building's address eventhough i pass the building every single day. i know it as the Center For Advanced Medicine. everyone knows it as that. i wonder how large a building has to be in order to be known by a name rather than ann address. like if you ordered a pizza and you lived in the Center for Advanced Medicine, you could just tell them to deliver it to the Center for Advanced Medicine. i, on the other hand, live in a building known by it's address. i would have to tell the pizza guy my address. unless the pizza place has one of those things that can tell your address via your telephone number. that's a good system. the shuttle finally arrived. and i got on. there were a lot of people. as is the norm at that time of day. i stood in the aisle and listened. there was a guy who was on his cellphone, telling whoever it was at the other end that he really likes candy. i find it interesting that a majority of asian american men and a majority of gay men tend to talk in the exact same manner. the preceeding was a side thought.once some people got off the shuttle, i found a seat. the one i found was behind a girl who was reading. but she wasn't really reading. it seemed like she was more interested in highlighting print than she was in reading actual words. it looked like she was coloring. after i bored with watching the girl in front of me, my mind drifted. i thought about nothing for a while. i thought about nothing so intensely that i forgot to tell the driver that my stop was coming up. so i had to get off at the next stop a couple of blocks away. for a block or so, i walked behind the pilgrim girl with square shoes, no buckles, and shaky legs. she was still cold, it appeared. she was also a little uncomfortable with me walking behind her. because at a random point, she just slowed down. almost to a stop. so i could pass. once i did, she began walking briskly again. i can't blame her for her actions though. asian men in thick glasses can be qiute intimidating.

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