This morning I had a nice suicide dream. I was in this room with the Hale Bopp cult who were drinking vodka and taking phenobarbital while someone was putting black perfectly square blankets over them as they slipped away.
I wasn't down with the scene. I tiptoed around them and found a door and walked out. I could hear my father laughing "what kind of morons would off themselves to a comet called Hale Bopp?"
Yesterday brought up all kinds of triggers but, like in the dream, I want to live. I do suffer the human 'taking myself way too seriously' bits from time to time.
So I went about the day and it ended well. Got a nice 2 hour practice session in on my sax. I'm loving the sound lately and it's really meditative to practice. It's astounding the amount of time one can put into an instrument. It's Friday night and I'm almost never out with the rest of you. I don't much enjoy bars unless there is some Afrobeat to dance to, and Zebulon closed 2 1/2 years ago. So I work on music.
It's a good thing for bad times and a good thing for good times. What am I working on? Just some of my own stuff and new melodies for Gospel of Mars. I don't play jazz. I hardly touch the stuff these days. And that feels right. When I play a standard I feel competitive. I feel the compare despair crap. "Oh I'll never be as good as Joshua Redman or James Carter".
I don't know where that attitude comes from. Berklee years? It's gross. And as if I'd ever want to play like those guys or sound like them. And as if they would ever care!
So I play me. That's all I got baby. And it's the best kind of self care to just do that. Tonight I had some new ideas come in the channel. I could hear my old teacher WC Cage say "the more you play the more ideas you find". Wise words from a wise old man. I've never known anyone to think their way out of a writing block but have known myself to play my way out of a thinking block.
Progress. It's good for the heart.
As I was about to write this I noticed I got a reply on todays earlier post. I got excited for a moment but then saw it was mr. Finnell with his same old tired bible drivel. Bunch of verse written by drunk men a long time ago. It's sad what those words do to people. Like the vultures are picking the bones while your body is still warm. Please refrain from posting your religious stuff here. I'm happily unsaved and loving it. Amen.
J
I wasn't down with the scene. I tiptoed around them and found a door and walked out. I could hear my father laughing "what kind of morons would off themselves to a comet called Hale Bopp?"
Yesterday brought up all kinds of triggers but, like in the dream, I want to live. I do suffer the human 'taking myself way too seriously' bits from time to time.
So I went about the day and it ended well. Got a nice 2 hour practice session in on my sax. I'm loving the sound lately and it's really meditative to practice. It's astounding the amount of time one can put into an instrument. It's Friday night and I'm almost never out with the rest of you. I don't much enjoy bars unless there is some Afrobeat to dance to, and Zebulon closed 2 1/2 years ago. So I work on music.
It's a good thing for bad times and a good thing for good times. What am I working on? Just some of my own stuff and new melodies for Gospel of Mars. I don't play jazz. I hardly touch the stuff these days. And that feels right. When I play a standard I feel competitive. I feel the compare despair crap. "Oh I'll never be as good as Joshua Redman or James Carter".
I don't know where that attitude comes from. Berklee years? It's gross. And as if I'd ever want to play like those guys or sound like them. And as if they would ever care!
So I play me. That's all I got baby. And it's the best kind of self care to just do that. Tonight I had some new ideas come in the channel. I could hear my old teacher WC Cage say "the more you play the more ideas you find". Wise words from a wise old man. I've never known anyone to think their way out of a writing block but have known myself to play my way out of a thinking block.
Progress. It's good for the heart.
As I was about to write this I noticed I got a reply on todays earlier post. I got excited for a moment but then saw it was mr. Finnell with his same old tired bible drivel. Bunch of verse written by drunk men a long time ago. It's sad what those words do to people. Like the vultures are picking the bones while your body is still warm. Please refrain from posting your religious stuff here. I'm happily unsaved and loving it. Amen.
J
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