I've been thinking about poetry, art, and music, or collectively, Art. It seems to me that an inundation of mediocre Art has diluted and dimmed our ability to appreciate - even distinguish - the differences between good Art and great Art.
Most people can tell if something's bad Art - that's not difficult. And even mediocre Art is usually recognizable. But what about good Art? What defines good? If a painting's lines are true, its colors are right, and all the details are just as they should be, it's good. Or if it's unique in topic or color or style, as long as it's well-executed, it's good. But even if all the details are just right, it's not necessarily great.
The same goes for music. If all the parts fit as they should, if it's playable, then it's good. For poetry, if the lines and words mesh as they were meant to, it's good. And for all forms of Art, if a piece is well-constructed, if to appearances it's just right, then it's good. But it isn't great.
For Art to be great, it must transcend all the lines and notes and words. If one views a painting that is good, one enjoys the viewing, and might even desire many more. But if the painting is great, one can barely leave. One is drawn, almost inexplicably, to it. If a work is good, reasons can be given: the colors are brilliant, the lines sing, it looks or sounds real... But the line which separates good from great defies explanation.
When one attempts to give reasons for the greatness of Art, one finds oneself at a loss for words. Why is that painting so great? I cannot tell. Why does one love listening to that aria over and over? One does not know. Why does the reading of that poem stir one so? It cannot be explained. Great Art changes the observer. Good Art merely upholds previous notions. Great Art touches something deep inside one, makes one cry or laugh or feel able to conquer all. Or it leads one to quietly sit and think. But to be great, it must touch one. Somehow. Good Art affects the surface, the logic of a person. Great Art reaches inside, beyond the logic, beyond the sense, beyond one's reasons, to affect something else.
Good Art is merely beautiful, nothing more. That which leaves one with joy, with sorrow, with longing, with questions - that is great. Art which can be defined is not great. Art which can be ignored is not great. Art which leaves an indelible mark inside its viewer (or listener or reader) - that Art which transcends - that is great.
And that which is great is that which cannot be explained or expressed. Great Art is beyond, or above, my feeble attempts to explain. Good Art is pretty. Great Art just is. And one never can say more.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Friday, March 24, 2006
opening night
It was opening night. It began well - the audience crowded, instruments tuned and ready, actors warmed up and waiting. It ended well - the audience stood, the orchestra played their hearts out, the actors bowed.
But the middle? The play was well-executed. A couple of forgotten lines, but nothing worse. The orchestra, in the words of a fan "rocked." Small riffs were heard that are sometimes forgotten. So the performance? It went well - except for a couple incidences, such as the drummer showing up so drunk he could barely walk. After a couple songs, he fell of his stool, and had to sit out the rest of the first act. We (the rest of the orchestra members) were NOT happy when he walked in. Poor guy. Hopefully he won't show up that drunk tomorrow.
As usual, just performing gave me a bunch of extra energy. But my part wasn't difficult enough to use that energy, so during intermission I was twitchy. I wanted to do something with my hands, but wasn't sure exactly what. And at the end, I knew so few people. I'm accustomed to seeing more people I could talk with, but no so luck.
So with all the twitchiness and there being no one around... I started wanting to destroy something. Shred, rip, slash, anything. I had to repress the urge to find someone to punch really hard. Not that there was anyone there I knew well enough to punch... When I got home, I was still in that destructive mood. I wanted to wreck something, trash something, break or burn or crush. That mood hasn't completely passed - I still want to strangle something. And I'm listening to my angry-ish hardcore-ish music. But as this desire for ruination passes, it is replaced by great melancholy. I feel like crying. Ahhh! I need Olin hugs!!
This is why I should never be a professional performer.
But the middle? The play was well-executed. A couple of forgotten lines, but nothing worse. The orchestra, in the words of a fan "rocked." Small riffs were heard that are sometimes forgotten. So the performance? It went well - except for a couple incidences, such as the drummer showing up so drunk he could barely walk. After a couple songs, he fell of his stool, and had to sit out the rest of the first act. We (the rest of the orchestra members) were NOT happy when he walked in. Poor guy. Hopefully he won't show up that drunk tomorrow.
As usual, just performing gave me a bunch of extra energy. But my part wasn't difficult enough to use that energy, so during intermission I was twitchy. I wanted to do something with my hands, but wasn't sure exactly what. And at the end, I knew so few people. I'm accustomed to seeing more people I could talk with, but no so luck.
So with all the twitchiness and there being no one around... I started wanting to destroy something. Shred, rip, slash, anything. I had to repress the urge to find someone to punch really hard. Not that there was anyone there I knew well enough to punch... When I got home, I was still in that destructive mood. I wanted to wreck something, trash something, break or burn or crush. That mood hasn't completely passed - I still want to strangle something. And I'm listening to my angry-ish hardcore-ish music. But as this desire for ruination passes, it is replaced by great melancholy. I feel like crying. Ahhh! I need Olin hugs!!
This is why I should never be a professional performer.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
orchestra and the little people
Opening night's tomorrow. Tonite was a pseudo-performance; eighth graders comprised our audience. It went well - they laughed, they clapped. The orchestra's coming together. We're finally figuring out where everything goes, and when, and how. According to all reports, we sound good.
I think I've figured out why I love being in the orchestra so much. I'm one of those strange all-or-nothing creatures when it comes to the attentions of others. If I can't be the center, I prefer the invisible. If I ever was in a play, I wouldn't be content to be Townsperson, or Officer #2. I'd want to be a lead. Or nothing. Or backstage. Or better yet, the orchestra. It's absolutely necessary for the success of a musical, but you don't focus on it. In fact, many overlook it. You can hear the results of my labor, but me? You ignore me. As far as you, the audience, knows, I don't exist. And that's just how I like it. Either give me real attention, or don't even look at me. But, I must do something. And make it something useful, for goodness sakes. I love the feeling of doing something absolutely critical, but not being noticed by anybody. It's like: "I just made this possible, but nobody knows it. No one will disturb my peace with comments or criticisms; they'll just enjoy what they see without thinking about who made it possible. Yes. Another proof to myself of the worth of my existence." Is this a normal perspective? Are most people all or nothings? Maybe I'm the victim of a strange psychosis. Maybe, deep inside me, is an attention-loving extrovert. Maybe I'm just kidding myself, and what I really think is something entirely different. But I don't think so. I think it's partly the result of years of feeling wallflower-ish. I'd rather be invisible than seen but passed over. If I am seen, I want to actually be seen, not just glanced at. See me, not just my surface. Or don't bother even looking. I'm not even sure if I'm making sense, or if this is justified; but it's how I feel most of the time. I've always felt sorry for extras in movies or plays - exactly who they are matters not one jot. All that matters is that a person is standing there to provide a backdrop for the main, the real characters. Ah, well. This is why I'm in the orchestra. And a major reason for why I've never auditioned for a real play. If I was handed a little part, I'd probably reject it. And let's face it, the chances of me getting a real part are next to nil. So orchestra on.
Besides, what is life without music?
I think I've figured out why I love being in the orchestra so much. I'm one of those strange all-or-nothing creatures when it comes to the attentions of others. If I can't be the center, I prefer the invisible. If I ever was in a play, I wouldn't be content to be Townsperson, or Officer #2. I'd want to be a lead. Or nothing. Or backstage. Or better yet, the orchestra. It's absolutely necessary for the success of a musical, but you don't focus on it. In fact, many overlook it. You can hear the results of my labor, but me? You ignore me. As far as you, the audience, knows, I don't exist. And that's just how I like it. Either give me real attention, or don't even look at me. But, I must do something. And make it something useful, for goodness sakes. I love the feeling of doing something absolutely critical, but not being noticed by anybody. It's like: "I just made this possible, but nobody knows it. No one will disturb my peace with comments or criticisms; they'll just enjoy what they see without thinking about who made it possible. Yes. Another proof to myself of the worth of my existence." Is this a normal perspective? Are most people all or nothings? Maybe I'm the victim of a strange psychosis. Maybe, deep inside me, is an attention-loving extrovert. Maybe I'm just kidding myself, and what I really think is something entirely different. But I don't think so. I think it's partly the result of years of feeling wallflower-ish. I'd rather be invisible than seen but passed over. If I am seen, I want to actually be seen, not just glanced at. See me, not just my surface. Or don't bother even looking. I'm not even sure if I'm making sense, or if this is justified; but it's how I feel most of the time. I've always felt sorry for extras in movies or plays - exactly who they are matters not one jot. All that matters is that a person is standing there to provide a backdrop for the main, the real characters. Ah, well. This is why I'm in the orchestra. And a major reason for why I've never auditioned for a real play. If I was handed a little part, I'd probably reject it. And let's face it, the chances of me getting a real part are next to nil. So orchestra on.
Besides, what is life without music?
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
just got back from the first run-through of fiddler. eek. it went ok. it'll be good come performance, but right now? it's almost funny.
yesterday i went with mom and dawn to grants pass... going over the mountains it snowed a little. there was already quite a bit of snow on the trees. there is nothing so serenely, coolly, expectantly beautiful as evergreen trees under snow. it was gorgeous. made me happy. and i found a dave brubeck cd (for those who don't know, he's a jazz pianist), and it's amazing. it's got a couple songs i've played before (take five, and blue rondo a la turk), and it's neat to hear the originals. yay for good jazz!
something i wrote about the snowy trees and mountains:
it's like the baker in the sky shook sifted sugar over everything.
the ground is dusted with it, the trees are gilded with it.
the tops and tips of the branches glow with their white sugar-frosting.
i wanted to eat the trees - they looked so good. and there were waterfalls, which i adore... this place is beautiful. it really is.
yesterday i went with mom and dawn to grants pass... going over the mountains it snowed a little. there was already quite a bit of snow on the trees. there is nothing so serenely, coolly, expectantly beautiful as evergreen trees under snow. it was gorgeous. made me happy. and i found a dave brubeck cd (for those who don't know, he's a jazz pianist), and it's amazing. it's got a couple songs i've played before (take five, and blue rondo a la turk), and it's neat to hear the originals. yay for good jazz!
something i wrote about the snowy trees and mountains:
it's like the baker in the sky shook sifted sugar over everything.
the ground is dusted with it, the trees are gilded with it.
the tops and tips of the branches glow with their white sugar-frosting.
i wanted to eat the trees - they looked so good. and there were waterfalls, which i adore... this place is beautiful. it really is.
Monday, March 13, 2006
random writings of my past...
got it! (frail, that is) yay.
it's still raining here. ach, such is life. but music makes things better.
something i found in one of my random journal-ish things:
i'm leaving for a place/ where topaz orbs glittering/ drop down
i'm headed to a time/ where lilac blooms heavily/ waft up
i'm fleeing to a land/ where great green arms listlessly/ wave by
lonely as a simple summer/ twilight on the/ long and twisted banks/ of a stream.
i'm not sure what year this was... i think it's from 2004. it's funny, i would write it differently now. but just above it was a phrase i still actually like: "add topaz to golden amber, that glorious lexicon of the divine fires smoldering bright". i'm not sure what exactly it means, but it sounds cool.
another thing i found (this from march of 2004): "death either gilds or burns. the good seems divine; the bad, diabolical." interesting. from what i've seen, this holds true. how often do we actually remember the humanness of those who have passed on? we remember wonderful or horrible things, but what about those everyday, normal things that truly defined the person?
here's something i wrote when i first visited boston, in june of 2004: "emerald green/ golden amber on fire/ tears of a phoenix/ smiles of the setting sun." i think i liked the phrase "golden amber." not sure why i mentioned a phoenix' tears. odd, how i feel like the phoenix is weeping now. and the sun is setting; but some perversity in its nature makes it smile as it falls. how often it is with humans! even as they choose to fall, choose to go down in fire, they insist on smiling, on pretending all is good and they're ok. this is why, i think, i've always be wary and mistrustful of people who are always happy.
interesting distinction between words: 'mistrustful' means to ''not trust' to any degree... to have doubts about motives,' while 'distrustful' means to completely regard with suspicion, ie, to have 'no faith' at all. slight difference, but cool! i love words!
it's still raining here. ach, such is life. but music makes things better.
something i found in one of my random journal-ish things:
i'm leaving for a place/ where topaz orbs glittering/ drop down
i'm headed to a time/ where lilac blooms heavily/ waft up
i'm fleeing to a land/ where great green arms listlessly/ wave by
lonely as a simple summer/ twilight on the/ long and twisted banks/ of a stream.
i'm not sure what year this was... i think it's from 2004. it's funny, i would write it differently now. but just above it was a phrase i still actually like: "add topaz to golden amber, that glorious lexicon of the divine fires smoldering bright". i'm not sure what exactly it means, but it sounds cool.
another thing i found (this from march of 2004): "death either gilds or burns. the good seems divine; the bad, diabolical." interesting. from what i've seen, this holds true. how often do we actually remember the humanness of those who have passed on? we remember wonderful or horrible things, but what about those everyday, normal things that truly defined the person?
here's something i wrote when i first visited boston, in june of 2004: "emerald green/ golden amber on fire/ tears of a phoenix/ smiles of the setting sun." i think i liked the phrase "golden amber." not sure why i mentioned a phoenix' tears. odd, how i feel like the phoenix is weeping now. and the sun is setting; but some perversity in its nature makes it smile as it falls. how often it is with humans! even as they choose to fall, choose to go down in fire, they insist on smiling, on pretending all is good and they're ok. this is why, i think, i've always be wary and mistrustful of people who are always happy.
interesting distinction between words: 'mistrustful' means to ''not trust' to any degree... to have doubts about motives,' while 'distrustful' means to completely regard with suspicion, ie, to have 'no faith' at all. slight difference, but cool! i love words!
Sunday, March 12, 2006
frail. now. please.
i need it. please. anybody. the song frail, by jars of clay. it's been running through my head ALL day, and i don't have it, and i can't find it. and it's eating me up inside, and will until i hear the whole thing. i found lyrics, tab, and a guitar, but i don't remember it well enough to play it. ideas, anyone? please? i love the song; must hear it; must must must. oh golly, it's ridiculous how much i need to hear it. it's just a song, right. not right. to me, music is a complicated, many-splendored thing. it keeps me going, moving, living, breathing, loving. i NEED it. and right now, this song is what i need to hear. oh golly. i'm repeating myself now, so i'll stop. but please, can anyone give it to me?
Saturday, March 11, 2006
loser
...it was like a train, mountain, then CRASH! it all kinda died. it's always amusing to me when we're playing along, and suddenly we all just stop in confusion, all at once. oh, i love playing in a band!
so, in my attempt to be "useful" and entertain my family, i've been playing random games with them whenever someone's bored. and the weird thing... i ALWAYS lose. it doesn't matter what i'm playing, or with who. i play crazy 8's, i lose. rummy, i lose. hearts, i lose, but that's not surprising, cause i don't count cards or even try to do well; i just play cards. and i played four games of chutes and ladders today (yeah, i know it's a children's game, but it's brainless), and guess what? i lost. every game. and i didn't barely lose... i lost BADLY. i don't understand. perhaps it's just that the other people i'm playing with need encouragement? but it doesn't make sense. as soon as i try to help... i don't particularly mind losing, but when you lose time after time? it starts wearing you down. it just does. there's not much you can do to prevent that. so i'm confused. yarr.
so, in my attempt to be "useful" and entertain my family, i've been playing random games with them whenever someone's bored. and the weird thing... i ALWAYS lose. it doesn't matter what i'm playing, or with who. i play crazy 8's, i lose. rummy, i lose. hearts, i lose, but that's not surprising, cause i don't count cards or even try to do well; i just play cards. and i played four games of chutes and ladders today (yeah, i know it's a children's game, but it's brainless), and guess what? i lost. every game. and i didn't barely lose... i lost BADLY. i don't understand. perhaps it's just that the other people i'm playing with need encouragement? but it doesn't make sense. as soon as i try to help... i don't particularly mind losing, but when you lose time after time? it starts wearing you down. it just does. there's not much you can do to prevent that. so i'm confused. yarr.
Friday, March 10, 2006
pretty!
it snowed again today. a sad snow, which fell far too quickly and melted as soon as it touched the ground. but for here? impressive. and it was pretty as it fell. the downside to this "snow" is the cold... it's been in the low thirties and high twenties... keep in mind it's extremely humid, so it's really hard to stay warm. but it's ok.
MJ's back in town, so we'll be having a regular visitor for a while; that'll add more laughter and cheerfulness and red hair. Yay!
And I had some encouraging talks (not literally talks since they were online... types?) last night, so I'm feeling better. Although I could still use some good, stimulating company. Oh, well. Such is life.
MJ's back in town, so we'll be having a regular visitor for a while; that'll add more laughter and cheerfulness and red hair. Yay!
And I had some encouraging talks (not literally talks since they were online... types?) last night, so I'm feeling better. Although I could still use some good, stimulating company. Oh, well. Such is life.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
so mediocre
it's raining again. tried to snow this morning, so it's cold. and this week has been absolutely blah. i'm suddenly very lonely and bored and frustrated, and watching fiddler on the roof DOES NOT help. but fiddler continues for the next few weeks, so it will continue to make me think unhappy thoughts. but the music is fun...
a thought: which is better, love or life? i am at an impasse. for life is made worthwhile by love, but love is made possible by life. so which is better? which would you rather have?
help, people! come visit! say hi... anything. i'm rather tired of living at the moment; there just doesn't seem to be anything to live for. yeah, this is a rather blue day. blue moment, blue feelings... need something happy. need something cheerful. need something worthwhile. yarrr.
a thought: which is better, love or life? i am at an impasse. for life is made worthwhile by love, but love is made possible by life. so which is better? which would you rather have?
help, people! come visit! say hi... anything. i'm rather tired of living at the moment; there just doesn't seem to be anything to live for. yeah, this is a rather blue day. blue moment, blue feelings... need something happy. need something cheerful. need something worthwhile. yarrr.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Saturday, March 04, 2006
"She wanted to climb, but dreaded the fall..."
There's an old song - She Didn't Say Yes (ella fitzgerald) - that's got crazy funny sad lyrics. The chorus ends "she didn't say yes, she didn't say no. She didn't say stay, she didn't say go... she did just what you'd do too." It's interesting to listen to it, then try to answer what you'd do in her place.
Carpet makes a huge difference in the sound of a room! Oh goodness. They tore up all the carpet at church (we're getting new carpet in a few weeks) so the sounds echo horribly. We sounded so muddy at practice tonite! But it's ok, cause my fingers are surviving bass admirably.
I've discovered that I can't read sad books anymore - or at least I really don't like to. If any character I even remotely like dies, grrr. It's so weird, cause I used to read murder mysteries all the time. And didn't care if characters in other books got injured, or sick, or died, or disappeared, or had their hearts broken. But now? I don't like reading about misfortune, especially if it's permanent. I never used to even feel remotely like crying when reading books, no matter what happened. That's no longer the case. Maybe I'm more emotional. Maybe my emotions are just closer to the surface, more accessible. Maybe I've just been through some of those situations, and it hurts to be reminded. I'm not sure what it is, but it spoils the innocent pleasure I used to find in reading everything and anything. Argh. I wish I knew what to think of this phenomenon. I wish I knew why it keeps occuring. I wish I knew if I will outgrow it, or if I'm permanently tainted. I wish I knew a lot of things.
But life is going fairly well. Storms clear my melancholy. They blow away the fog in my mind. They fill my heart with fresh, stirring air. And even fallen trees smell good when you drive past. I love living on the coast!
Carpet makes a huge difference in the sound of a room! Oh goodness. They tore up all the carpet at church (we're getting new carpet in a few weeks) so the sounds echo horribly. We sounded so muddy at practice tonite! But it's ok, cause my fingers are surviving bass admirably.
I've discovered that I can't read sad books anymore - or at least I really don't like to. If any character I even remotely like dies, grrr. It's so weird, cause I used to read murder mysteries all the time. And didn't care if characters in other books got injured, or sick, or died, or disappeared, or had their hearts broken. But now? I don't like reading about misfortune, especially if it's permanent. I never used to even feel remotely like crying when reading books, no matter what happened. That's no longer the case. Maybe I'm more emotional. Maybe my emotions are just closer to the surface, more accessible. Maybe I've just been through some of those situations, and it hurts to be reminded. I'm not sure what it is, but it spoils the innocent pleasure I used to find in reading everything and anything. Argh. I wish I knew what to think of this phenomenon. I wish I knew why it keeps occuring. I wish I knew if I will outgrow it, or if I'm permanently tainted. I wish I knew a lot of things.
But life is going fairly well. Storms clear my melancholy. They blow away the fog in my mind. They fill my heart with fresh, stirring air. And even fallen trees smell good when you drive past. I love living on the coast!
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Water drips past my windows, singing to my tired soul
Had an Act 1 run through orchestra plus actors tonight. It was rough; hopfully in the next three weeks it'll all get better. It's fun to be in an orchestra again. And wow, once again, Beth is amazing. Even though I've seen her act before, each time I see her again I am impressed. She's capable of making me cry. Yay for talented friends!
It's raining again. Surprise. Ha. But I don't mind. Oh, Oh! T3h m05t r0x0r n3w5 3v4r! w00t! I get to go to the Steel Band Night at HSU in April... see Liam Teague and some other cool dude. AND... If our band opens, I'll get to play with them! One member is going to prom instead of the concert (Can't imagine why. Amazing steel bands vs prom? No brainer. Steel. Of course.) so I'll learn her part! It's double seconds, so I'll be learning another instrument at the same time. And I've missed playing steel soo much; it'll be wonderful to play again. Especially if I get to perform too! Oh, Steel Band, how I love thee! ::insert me dancing wildly here::
Bad news is that my cold seems to be travelling into the back of my sinuses and is making my ears feel weird. Don't want an ear infection. Grr. But it doesn't really inhibit my ability to do things, so that's good.
Wow, just read through comments on my blog. To Hoss, I say: yeah, I miss you, too. Even after how you treated me. :-P You should travel up here some time after the rain stops... see the trees you mocked me for admiring. Got a couple other comments that were encouraging. Yay! Comment away, people. It maketh my soul to rejoice.
People call rain the tears of God. They call it liquid sorrow. They associate it with dreariness, darkness, worries, boredom, and death. Such misunderstanding! I call rain the elixir of God. I call it liquid health. I associate it with loveliness, light, freedom, activity, and life. Have you ever seen the diamonds cast in shimmering arrays from a raindrop watched by the sun? Have you ever observed drops sitting peacefully on a leaf or spiderweb? Have you ever watched rain's careless abandon as it rushes towards the warm earth? Have you ever noticed its moods? How it patterns the ground like an artist? How, even after the surface has been reached, it continues on, flowing and laughing along? Have you ever stood in the rain, lifting your face and hands to its gentle touch, and been refreshed, invigorated? Rain wipes one clean. It washes away the stain, the guilt, and leaves only peace and cleanness. Rain is forgiveness. Rain is peace. Rain is rebirth. It is beautiful. How can you say otherwise?
It's raining again. Surprise. Ha. But I don't mind. Oh, Oh! T3h m05t r0x0r n3w5 3v4r! w00t! I get to go to the Steel Band Night at HSU in April... see Liam Teague and some other cool dude. AND... If our band opens, I'll get to play with them! One member is going to prom instead of the concert (Can't imagine why. Amazing steel bands vs prom? No brainer. Steel. Of course.) so I'll learn her part! It's double seconds, so I'll be learning another instrument at the same time. And I've missed playing steel soo much; it'll be wonderful to play again. Especially if I get to perform too! Oh, Steel Band, how I love thee! ::insert me dancing wildly here::
Bad news is that my cold seems to be travelling into the back of my sinuses and is making my ears feel weird. Don't want an ear infection. Grr. But it doesn't really inhibit my ability to do things, so that's good.
Wow, just read through comments on my blog. To Hoss, I say: yeah, I miss you, too. Even after how you treated me. :-P You should travel up here some time after the rain stops... see the trees you mocked me for admiring. Got a couple other comments that were encouraging. Yay! Comment away, people. It maketh my soul to rejoice.
People call rain the tears of God. They call it liquid sorrow. They associate it with dreariness, darkness, worries, boredom, and death. Such misunderstanding! I call rain the elixir of God. I call it liquid health. I associate it with loveliness, light, freedom, activity, and life. Have you ever seen the diamonds cast in shimmering arrays from a raindrop watched by the sun? Have you ever observed drops sitting peacefully on a leaf or spiderweb? Have you ever watched rain's careless abandon as it rushes towards the warm earth? Have you ever noticed its moods? How it patterns the ground like an artist? How, even after the surface has been reached, it continues on, flowing and laughing along? Have you ever stood in the rain, lifting your face and hands to its gentle touch, and been refreshed, invigorated? Rain wipes one clean. It washes away the stain, the guilt, and leaves only peace and cleanness. Rain is forgiveness. Rain is peace. Rain is rebirth. It is beautiful. How can you say otherwise?
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
urgle
so apparently i must write out less than three. what i meant in the previous post was: i less than three music. but it hates me. and it didn't work. oh well. i think it ignored an entire sentence. cause i know i mentioned arturo sandoval, and tower of power, and a couple other musicians/groups whose music i want. for instance, i want to find a great jazz tenor saxophonist. can't think of any off the top of my head, but i'd like to find one.
it's all stormy here - the wind blows hard. i love storms. the trees are bowing before the mighty wind. and we're having soup for dinner! happiness is... eating hot soup with warm buttered bread on a cold, stormy, windy night. mmm.
it's all stormy here - the wind blows hard. i love storms. the trees are bowing before the mighty wind. and we're having soup for dinner! happiness is... eating hot soup with warm buttered bread on a cold, stormy, windy night. mmm.
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