Drumline Quotes

Everything in the universe has rhythm. Everything pulses to a beat laid down by the Big Bang. Everything feels the drumline of creation from star to sex to song.

No, if I knew my girl, she was fuming on the other end, because nobody held her back from doing what she wanted. Not cancer. Not a hundred and eighteen years of drumline tradition. Definitely not some insecure motherfucker who couldn’t stand not being the center of attention. And—if I was right—Reese Holland wanted me almost as badly as I wanted her.

She was a wonder junkie. In her mind, she was a hill tribesman standing slack-jawed before the real Ishtar Gate of ancient Babylon; Dorothy catching her first glimpse of the vaulted spires of the Emerald City of Oz; a small boy from darkest Brooklyn plunked down in the Corridor of Nations of the 1939 World’s Fair, the Trylon and Perisphere beckoning in the distance; she was Pocahontas sailing up the Thames estuary with London spread out before her from horizon to horizon. been voyaging between the stars when the ancestors of humans were still brachiating from branch to branch in the dappled sunlight of the forest canopy. Drumlin, like many others she had known over the years, had called her an incurable romantic; and she found herself wondering again why so many people thought it some embarrassing disability. Her romanticism had been a driving force in her life and a fount of delights. Advocate and practitioner of romance, she was off to see the Wizard.

Her face is seamed with a million wrinkles like the map of a state where the geography hasn’t settled down—rivers and canyons along her brown leather cheeks, ridges below the knob of her chin, the sinuous raised drumlin of bone at the base of her forehead, the caves of her eyes.

was that you didn’t just abandon the ones you loved when it wasn’t pretty. When it wasn’t fucking convenient. That’s when you loved more. You loved harder.

That you don’t want me to cook you dinner, and tell you how damn beautiful you look, and kiss you until you’ve been kissed every single way there is to kiss.

That is the normal succession of things in this part of the world; you can see the various stages all over Scratch Flat. There is, for example, a small red maple swamp above my house on the northwest side of the drumlin. The swamp was probably a pond sixty years ago, but now in summer, unless you know your trees, you cannot distinguish it from the surrounding woodlands. It is only in spring, when the groundwater levels are high, that the remnant of the ice sheet makes itself apparent. Then the waters rise around the trunks of the red maple trees and, after reaching a critical level, run down across the small meadow to the north of my house.

My lip curled. “He had it out for me before he knew a thing about me except that I had tits instead of a dick.” Smith sighed. “You always this prickly? There a cactus somewhere in your family tree?

My eyelids drooped at the contact and I fought the instinct to rub against him and purr my pleasure. Mark him as mine. It was like his pheromones were custom designed to have the impact of a sucker-punch, stealing my breath and turning me into a junkie after just one hit. - Reese Holland

Percussion is my religion, and the band room is my cathedral. Inside this holy place, I don’t believe in anything more than myself.

Sophomore Lucy Karate took a deep breath and concentrated her moss green eyes on the black squiggles in front of her. The sheet music on the page was exactly the same it had been for the past ten months. The difference wasn’t the music; it was the day. This was the day before auditions – her last opportunity to practice before her fate for the next school year was ultimately decided.

Myron? My brain screeches to a halt. I’ve transferred to a school where they name kids Myron?!

Myron, all six feet of super cuteness, comes forward. He smiles and I almost die, because he has one adorable dimple. Instead of getting embarrassed about his first name, he offers his hand and says, “Call me McDaniel.

Denny and McDaniel go into the percussion room and grab a bizarre metal contraption. Denny lifts it over his head and I give him a strange look, to which he responds like I’m a five year old, “Carr-i-er.

Denny gave me a strange look when I showed up in the band room, but I have always believed playing drums is no excuse not to look cute. Besides, if McDaniel shows up, I want to look my best. Oh, crap, I should be paying attention. “Did you hear anything I said?” I answer honestly, “No.” Denny runs a hand through his spiked hair and asks, “Do you really want to learn how to march?” “I have to learn to march if I want to be a part of the section, right?” “Right.” “Then, it doesn’t really matter if I want to do anything. It’s something I have to do.” Denny looks confused and partially like he’s completely regretting the decision to add me to his section, but proceeds to teach me drill for the better part of two hours. While we run through the steps, I look longingly over at my quints, which I have secretly decided to name Quincy.

Ice Age 2,588 million years ago, at the start of the Pleistocene, the Earth entered an Ice Age. It followed 50 million years of climatic downturn, and was the first full-blown ice age for a quarter of a billion years. Cooler, arid conditions alternated with warm, wet conditions as ice sheets ebbed and flowed in higher latitudes. The ice sheets alternately locked up vast amounts of fresh water, then released it again as temperatures rose. This alternation between a cooler and a warmer climate has continued right up to the present day. The cold spells are often referred to as ‘ice ages’. In particular the end of the most recent glacial period 11,600 years ago, is popularly known as the end of the last Ice Age. In fact the warm spells – interglacial periods – are no more than breaks in an on-going ice age. The current Holocene epoch, that followed the last glacial period, is such a break. In theory, glacial conditions will one day return, though the effects of anthropogenic (human caused) global warming make this uncertain. Glacial periods are not necessarily periods of unremitting cold, but alternate between colder and warmer intervals known respectively as stadials and interstadials. The idea that there were periods when glaciers extended beyond their present-day limits gradually emerged during the first half of the nineteenth century. Geologists sought to explain such phenomena as rock scouring and scratching, the cutting of valleys, the existence of whale-shaped hills known as drumlins and the presence of erratic boulders and ridges of rocky debris known as moraines. The term Eiszeit (‘ice age’) was coined in 1837 by the German botanist Karl Friedrich Schimper.

she learned words that rolled from her tongue when no one was listening. Firns and striations. Cirques and moraines. Adulation. Sublimation. She fell asleep to their music, and she woke to it. Chatter marks, eskers, and drumlins. Truncated spurs. Corries and tarns. Kames. Eolian loess. Katabatic winds.

Damn, I'm fresh out of pity this morning. The only thing I brought with me today was some attitude and a metric fuckton of badassness.

The most important emphasis in the allotted warmup time is repetition. Don’t talk more than they play!

Rule number one, in general visual design, is to create an exceptional listening environment.

It will be necessary to communicate within a loud environment most of the time. ASL signs can help you understand or communicate information without being able to hear it and continuing to rehearse without stopping for minor comments.

The on-field warmup should invoke confidence in the members, don’t have them play something that isn’t ready, or above their level here. Remind them to listen to the environment while playing to understand as much as they can about the overall listening situation. You might try ending the field warmup session with a very loud single note from everyone in order to listen specifically to the reverb and echo of the stadium.

The on-field warmup should invoke confidence in the members, don’t have them play something that isn’t ready, or above their level here. Remind them to listen to the environment while playing to understand as much as they can about the overall listening situation. You might try ending the field warmup session with a very loud single note from everyone in order to listen specifically to the reverb and echo of the stadium.

If you wanted four eighth-note triplets in one measure you’d run into the same problem. 4/12 will suffice as a time signature in that instance.

The wind announces itself through my open bedroom window. Sheet music is blown face down onto my floor, but the birds outside sing it from memory. Accompanying them are four steady-sounding knocks on my door, very evenly spaced, about mezzo-piano, my mom must be practicing drums too. "Let's leave now, so we get a good view for the parade," my mom adds lyrics through the closed door.

Learn with your group. Take as much information away from this season as possible to start the next one with momentum.

Drumlins