The hills are alive.

Music is a hard habit to break. It's hard to turn your back on it. And it's impossible to run away from it. I don't get enough music in my life. I can feel it inside. I need to break out my instruments and play some. Need to play some music. My friend just sent me the score to a song, arranged for a jazz band. I tried to transcribe it, once. And now I have it.

And now I'm not in jazz band.

It's okay. I just jammed out with a friend for the first time in a long time. I'd never really played with him before, but it was going good places. We wrote a song. It's a goofy little song about... relationships. Or, a relationship. A certain type. Not a real relationship. And the frustration associated with said non-relationship. It's light and energetic. It's fun.

I also wrote another song. More or less a stream-of-consciousness experiment. It turned out well, I think. I rhymed it as much as I could. I think I'm being so clever. Oh well. I'm anxious about that one. I hope it's as good as I think I think it is. It was a good reason to be inspired.

It has not been my week.

But we're getting a band together. I'm excited. Or we're talking about getting a band together. I'm still pretty excited.

Comments

Cam said…

You are welcome.

April 16, 2009 at 9:33 PM

Past the butterfly wall.

Spontaneous pneumothorax is a collection of air or gas in the space between the lungs and the chest that "collapses" the lung and prevents it from inflating completely. Spontaneous means there is no traumatic injury to the chest or lung. There are two types of spontaneous pneumothorax: primary and secondary. Primary spontaneous pneumothorax occurs in people without lung disease. It occurs most often in tall, thin, young people. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket but I can't answer it. We are in the middle of rehearsal. It is not an uncommon event. We continue to play. The strap of my saxophone cuts into my neck. The nylon is rough against my skin. I look out of place. Everyone else is dressed casually; shorts, shirts, shoes optional. There I stand, a button down shirt and slacks. I'm entitled to dress up a little. It's my birthday. My phone vibrates again. I always used to roll my eyes whenever I saw those scenes in movies. The phone call. The bad news....

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everything is fine

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