or i might say i've been converted.
i grew up with an unappreciation of the thrift store. over the last two days, i've purchased a nice, old school casio to be used on future projects for $25, and a different smaller casio for a dollar and a half. but the greatest takes me back to my old school, where i once was a decent trombone player. today i found, in pretty good condition (just a couple of small, minor dents) a trombone, with a case, for $14.80.
after i bought it, i spent the next 30 minutes, while james and shara shopped for warmer clothes, playing in the parking lot. a high school kid asked me why, i returned with why not, told him the story, he offered me $50, i said no, he walked away, i kept running long tones and arpeggios. i'm once again a trombone player.
word.
Tuesday, September 25, 2001
Sunday, September 23, 2001
set list - september 22, 2001
from noah's underground gallery
|
|
|
|
pull the bars
inconsistant
sick friend
youkali
riding horses
the ghost
earplugs
keeping promises
mother
dragonfly
immature
brave elephant
|
|
|
|
pull the bars
inconsistant
sick friend
youkali
riding horses
the ghost
earplugs
keeping promises
mother
dragonfly
immature
brave elephant
Thursday, September 20, 2001
today's yvette's b-day!
as i sit here in ithaca, ny, praying my slumber is effective tonight, i cannot release the state of the world out of my mind. it's hard to quit weeping...
i'm also wondering of the reality of my own life... am i like i was an hour ago? the person out of his shell? or am i the person that i've been? locked up tight so... well, too many reasons to mention.
maybe i need to be more like my friend, who has been strong, holding back her tears for fear of them never stopping. maybe i'm past the point of no return... i've seen the future... scary... must find a way to move forward. knock down the walls with a wrecking ball. wanna help me swing it...
still love the ellipse...
i'm also wondering of the reality of my own life... am i like i was an hour ago? the person out of his shell? or am i the person that i've been? locked up tight so... well, too many reasons to mention.
maybe i need to be more like my friend, who has been strong, holding back her tears for fear of them never stopping. maybe i'm past the point of no return... i've seen the future... scary... must find a way to move forward. knock down the walls with a wrecking ball. wanna help me swing it...
still love the ellipse...
Thursday, September 13, 2001
septembre 13, 2001
nyc is completely different.
we decided to come back to the city, away from tour, to see our friends, pray with everyone, and try to gain a little perspective on the situation.
this morning i took the train into the city. as the train came from underground, over the manhattan bridge, the view was spectacular as always, maybe even more so, in a very twisted way. smoke rose from what used to be. something amazing happened as the car i was in saw daylight. everyone got up out of their seat, moved to the lefthand side of the car, and just stared in silence. i wiped the tears out of my eyes only to see the tears in others. looking. staring at what we thought would always be. now the world trade center is gone. the twin towers only exist as memories. i remember going to the top with my father and step-mother. you felt as if you could see forever from up there. but now... gone.
once the train went back underground, everyone sat back down, back into their own worlds... or so i thought. just as i begin to write in my palm pilot, the guy across from me said, looking directly at me, "i still cannot believe it." then, the entire car erupted in conversation. strangers having some of the most meaningful, even intimate?, conversations of their lives. i talked to this man in front of me for about 20 minutes. i even missed my stop, which didn't really matter. my talk with a fellow new-yorker was more important than anything else at the time. when i finally got back to where i was going (8th street on the nr line) i climbed up the stairs to a ghost town. broadway, normally lined with cars double-parked on both sides, was completely empty. no cars at all, except for the occasional emergency vehicle passing every couple of minutes. the few people who were walking down the sidewalk wore surgical masks. a cloud of dust filled the air. my heart ached for everyone. a man approached me, who obviously substitued crying for sleeping the past couple of days, handed me a flyer he printed on his home computer with a picture of his wife, a description of her, and where she was last to be known. he asked me call if i saw her. i burst into tears. i had no idea what to say. i pray that God gave me the right words to say, because i honestly don't know what came out of my mouth.
i went to houston's, the restaurant where i work when i'm not making noise, to see my friends and make sure that extended family is alive and relatively well. they are. while i was there, former president bill clinton was walking down park ave. so i ran out to get his picture, and ended up getting to shake his hand. i don't really have an opinion of the man, because i don't follow politics, but there was a sense of comfort to know that such a man cared enough to be with the people who were hurting.
after that, i decided to come home. i have had quite the emotional day.
we decided to come back to the city, away from tour, to see our friends, pray with everyone, and try to gain a little perspective on the situation.
this morning i took the train into the city. as the train came from underground, over the manhattan bridge, the view was spectacular as always, maybe even more so, in a very twisted way. smoke rose from what used to be. something amazing happened as the car i was in saw daylight. everyone got up out of their seat, moved to the lefthand side of the car, and just stared in silence. i wiped the tears out of my eyes only to see the tears in others. looking. staring at what we thought would always be. now the world trade center is gone. the twin towers only exist as memories. i remember going to the top with my father and step-mother. you felt as if you could see forever from up there. but now... gone.
once the train went back underground, everyone sat back down, back into their own worlds... or so i thought. just as i begin to write in my palm pilot, the guy across from me said, looking directly at me, "i still cannot believe it." then, the entire car erupted in conversation. strangers having some of the most meaningful, even intimate?, conversations of their lives. i talked to this man in front of me for about 20 minutes. i even missed my stop, which didn't really matter. my talk with a fellow new-yorker was more important than anything else at the time. when i finally got back to where i was going (8th street on the nr line) i climbed up the stairs to a ghost town. broadway, normally lined with cars double-parked on both sides, was completely empty. no cars at all, except for the occasional emergency vehicle passing every couple of minutes. the few people who were walking down the sidewalk wore surgical masks. a cloud of dust filled the air. my heart ached for everyone. a man approached me, who obviously substitued crying for sleeping the past couple of days, handed me a flyer he printed on his home computer with a picture of his wife, a description of her, and where she was last to be known. he asked me call if i saw her. i burst into tears. i had no idea what to say. i pray that God gave me the right words to say, because i honestly don't know what came out of my mouth.
i went to houston's, the restaurant where i work when i'm not making noise, to see my friends and make sure that extended family is alive and relatively well. they are. while i was there, former president bill clinton was walking down park ave. so i ran out to get his picture, and ended up getting to shake his hand. i don't really have an opinion of the man, because i don't follow politics, but there was a sense of comfort to know that such a man cared enough to be with the people who were hurting.
after that, i decided to come home. i have had quite the emotional day.
Wednesday, September 12, 2001
septembre 11,2001
i've been wanting to write for a few days now, telling of the experiences thus far, but now that i have the chance, with the events of today, i am completely without words, staring at this screen...
peace.
peace.
Wednesday, September 5, 2001
an amazing thing happened today
i've been drinking coca-cola ever since i started college, about 10 years or so. every year, coca-cola has some sort of pop top game, when we can win free coke, money or fabulous prizes. while the latter two would be nice, all i've ever wanted was a free coke. for ten years, all i ever saw when i popped the top was, drink coke, play again... drink coke, play again... drink coke, play again... drink coke, play again... ahhhhhh...
today, september 5,2001 at 1 :37 pm...
free 20 oz coca cola product
yea!!!!!!! after a decade of my life, i finally won a free coke!!!! word.
today, september 5,2001 at 1 :37 pm...
free 20 oz coca cola product
yea!!!!!!! after a decade of my life, i finally won a free coke!!!! word.
Tuesday, September 4, 2001
what to do today...
4 septembre 2001
hap(G)py(G) birth(A)day(G) to(C) you (B)
hap(G)py(G) birth(A)day(G) to(D) you(C)
hap(G)py(G) birth(G8va)day(E) dear(C-C) james(B-A).....
hap(F)py(F) birth(E)day(C) to(D) you(C)!
and(G) ma(A)ny(G) more(Bb)!!!!!
clean desk
do dishes --- check
pack
---- cd's
---- clothes
---- toiletries
---- equipment
clean room
put guitars away
sweep apartment
clean kitchen
practice
clean bathroom -- ugh!
watch a movie
program sampler sampler sampler samp
its raining now... think i'll begin.
later.
hap(G)py(G) birth(A)day(G) to(C) you (B)
hap(G)py(G) birth(A)day(G) to(D) you(C)
hap(G)py(G) birth(G8va)day(E) dear(C-C) james(B-A).....
hap(F)py(F) birth(E)day(C) to(D) you(C)!
and(G) ma(A)ny(G) more(Bb)!!!!!
clean desk
do dishes --- check
pack
---- cd's
---- clothes
---- toiletries
---- equipment
clean room
put guitars away
sweep apartment
clean kitchen
practice
clean bathroom -- ugh!
watch a movie
program sampler sampler sampler samp
its raining now... think i'll begin.
later.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
