giving thanks

I don't exactly know what "Thanksgiving Echoes" would be like, but hey - it looked pretty funny and wasn't terribly trite as far as the Google image search I conducted to find an image for today's Turkey Day post (note: no turkeys have been harmed in the production of this entry).

Today is the day of giving thanks. So here's an abbreviated list of things that popped into my head:


- I give thanks for being able to sleep two hours on the Chinatown bus to DC this morning.

- I give thanks for all the listeners who called in last night into the wee hours of this morning for my foolishly long midnight to 6 AM shift on WRTI.

- I give thanks that my MacBook's trackpad is working again thanks to a super friendly helper named Dan at the 24-hour Apple store in NYC (more on that at another time).

- I give thanks to DL, BR, SB, DN and EL for putting up with me at work and teaching me a heck of a lot about the PR biz and about life over the last 6 months.

- I give thanks to all my new friends in the blogosphere who have given me props or blogrolled me including Mwanji, Darcy, Doug, Tim, Jon, Jeff Siegel; and to Mark Stryker of the Detroit Free Press for secretly reading this point of pontification.

- I give thanks to my clients - the artists, without whom I'd be working a shitty desk job at some nameless company eager clock out at 5 every day.

You know it's Thanksgiving day, when you have no work email and 1-2 bloggers are online. Time to nap a little more and then eat some turkey and yes, watch football. Here we go with the decline of the American mind.

Out,
drjazzphd

Now Listening to: World Saxophone Quartet - Bluogracy (Part 1) from Political Blues (Justin Time 2006).

carpe diem

Wednesday November 15

7:48 AM

Wake up. Brush teeth (no shower). Put on shoes (no socks), sweatshirt (w/ hood on). Hop in car. Drive towards Center City. Stop for the regular:

1 large decaf tea (cream and sugar)
1 toasted onion bagel with butter
2 French crullers

Sip tea. Eat crullers. Save bagel.

I'm finally driving downtown, using my morning productively to get my wallet which has been out of my possession for over 11 days. Surprising that I could exist that long without a wallet. Yes, I drove the 1.9 miles to work and back those 11 days without being hassled. Yes, I ate entirely at home and borrowed from fellow employees for little snacks during the work day. Yes, I tried to get it before (but not in the morning).

This was a painfully long commute into the city. I now know there are a world of people who get up every morning and deal with that shit. And I feel for them. I do. But even though most of them have health benefits, and better salaries, I don't envy them in the slightest. I still like my life right now, doing what I love -however unsustainable it may be. But I digress.

I got the wallet right where the guy whose wife found it, told me he dropped it off a week earlier. Want proof? Here!

insirpations

Well America... We did it! We finally beat the Republicans. No more do we have to hang signs like this one:


In other news, for the first time in my life I witnessed Cecil Taylor live last Saturday (Nov. 4). In all honesty, I haven't studied Taylor's music by immersing myself in his body of work. Nor have I ever purchased a Cecil Taylor album.

So what made me go see Cecil Taylor live? I'm not sure. I felt somewhat of an obligation to myself to see what all the hype has been about. But I also wanted to discover what he and his music were about and more importantly how his playing affected me.

Coming away from last Saturday night's show, it seems as if buying a recording would only do injustice to the Cecil Taylor live experience. Just watching the guy curl and stretch and bang hurriedly across the keyboard in a swath of tempi and dynamics is a visceral experience for the eyes. I felt like my ears were trying to play catch up with what I was seeing. This melodramatic body language was central to the experience. It bespoke his internal struggle to express his personal voice without repeating himself (though he did, many times over).

I would probably prefer to hear his poetry on recording only, as I could barely hear any of his 5 minute monologue which preceeded the music. 95 minute show on the full Bosendorfer grand piano specially ordered for this gig, his first in Philadelphia in over 20 years.