I've been somewhat immobile for two days.

Tests. Tests to find out why these kidney stones keep recurring. But they won't keep me down. Yes, sometimes you have to stay still, or be confined to an area, or be too weak to think. And when you do, you surrender to it and do nothing. Let the process of healing take its time. Otherwise, if you go too fast, you just end up back in bed, anyway.

Overseas in London, they're approaching the final weekend of the run of The Last Session. There are only a few tickets left. They will immediately go into the studio to make the cast recording. This will be hot. They know each other so well, and love each other so much. I can't wait to hear them now that they've connected as true band mates.

There is also talk of what might happen next. It's bad luck, they say, to discuss any possibilities out loud until it's all said and done. But there are several options. What we do know is that this show is playing to standing room audiences who are also standing ovation audiences. And in London, they don't hand those out like candy. Not like over here.

I'll keep you as up to date on everything as much as I can.

Anyway, two days of rest and semi-confinement to the house. I can now get out a little bit and walk around more. Being confined has also helped me focus on this Mass. As I said before, it's the most complex composition I've ever attempted. A friend of mine said, "I don't know anyone who's writing a Mass!" I haven't really given it that much thought.

Part of me is screaming, "LISTEN TO THIS!!" And the other part feels like a Freshman in college whose trying to finish his first term musical dissertation. I can just see myself getting slaughtered by the critics, assuming we'd ever do this anywhere but at our own church. You never know.

Too, I was approaching this project with a Baptist brain. First, I had to look up "Mass" to find out what, exactly, it is. A ritual. The Baptist brains going boink again. We don't believe in rituals. And even the Tao says "Rituals are the husk of true faith."

So, I had a mental block. Until the day I looked at the Kyrie and realized how human it is. A cry of pain. A begging for mercy. And only three or four words. All in Latin. I found myself thinking like a songwriter, and I wrote what felt like a mini-play, or a scene from a play. And, using music, I tried to tell a story. No one else even needs to know what the story is. It's there in the melody and harmony. I called it Kyrie Tremulare (trembling).

The Gloria has more words, but who doesn't love to shout with joy? I just wrote joy. And the Credo? It's almost ready. It's more cinematic. It's like taking a vow while watching a movie. It has heaven and hell and judgment. And redemption. And rebirth. Always a topic on this blog.

So, we'll see. Some of it may be really difficult to sing. But I'm the back row tenor in a choir in Brooklyn with a musical director who conducted for Bernstein, a historic organ being played by a Carnegie Hall virtuoso from Finland, and some of the finest trained young voices in the City. It may just be a few folks in Brooklyn who'll hear it, but it will sound good!

Then? Carnegie Hall, of course!