Sunday, March 04, 2007

A Postcard From Jazz @ Lincoln Center

Well, the last 10 days have been me getting things together in my head to see German Musicologist and now it is Sunday night and I am having a tall tropical drink and relaxing from days of analyzing the world of musicologists and how they measure up in the academy, peppered with glimpses of jazz inspired debates. But in the end, I guess I was left wanting. Though the intellectual meals and epicurial dialogue were stimulating, I simply know what I like in terms of jazz music, but I can't form a coherent historiography of its study. German Musicologist and I talked about musicians, performance, and our performances (he is a better musician than I by far), but as with all things in Germany, his view of the world is not limited by walls, but by little blinds attached to his glasses . . . he studied jazz and that is what is safe. An impromtu conversation starter around Eddie Money was received coldly but with mild affection.

There is a poem forming in my brain as we speak.

Tonight, I feel like Woodstock from the Peanuts, dancing down an open field, singing "Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy" cause Spring 2007 is here.

I received word from PU that I was not accepted in an e-mail. I am not so interested in why, I am just happy that I got a response, and I am happy that after the ordeal of the application my family of accountants, under paid social science majors, biologists and engineers have a better idea about what I do and what I want. So with that, I am breathing a sigh of relief because my little universe is not teetering on the balance any longer. Definitive answers and resolutions are coming daily.

But, not to be so self centered, I would like to share a funky New Orleans and Nashville based band I found surfing the web tonight. The Captain Midnight Band is all that and a double dash of fish sauce -- just before I partake in some white beans, oven roasted chicken, southern style cabbage and corn bread.

But chew on these chewy promises . . .

-- I promise to fill in the gaps on the latest heartache -- I broke a heart this time, instead of mine getting bullet ridden.

-- I promise to fill in the gaps on the future -- I have another job possibility.

-- I promise to fill in the gaps on that short piece I want to write about Andre and me riding to East Nashville that summer -- it has been on my mind, but PU had my creative juices on lock down, my subconscious did not know where to go after organizing my thoughts for a larger historical project.

Blah, blah, blah

More to say . . . but . . . no real time.

Just rebounding after being a tourist for a couple days. . .

And waiting for a new Dream Time to start.


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