"I am 66 years old. I have seen EVERYONE. Even Hendrix. And THAT... WAS... THE BEST... PERFORMANCE I HAVE... EVER SEEN!"
Sunday was rainy and altogether pretty drab, and I was very hungry and tired from lack of nutrients, having not had anything one could call a "meal" in four days, unless saltines and the occasional banana or gelatin count as meals. I spent a couple hours writing the previous piece, and then figured I'd just do some laundry and watch television. Easy Sunday evening, get ready for the work week, try to regain some strength and hope I could eat more, even though my stomach was still giving me a fit.
Once I finished the piece, I thought, "Right, but that show last night was SO GOOD... and it may be another couple years before I get to see Hiromi perform again... alright, I'll see the early show... but I have to do laundry."
Thus, I race to do laun nodry, finish at 7:10 pm, get on the train, arrive at the show five minutes before it starts, and I hear someone taking tickets say, "Alright, tell everyone else it's all just standing room in the back near the bar from now on."
I approach the counter and ask with a smile, "Any random solo seats left?"
She smiles and says, "In fact, there's one left, but shhh! Don't tell anyone!" Sometimes there are advantages to going it alone.
They bring me to the third row of tables, right in the center, a perfect view. I squeeze into my seat, and strike up a conversation with the gentleman nearby. He's up from Florida, and is heading back the next day, but someone he knew played with Stanley Clarke, and he knew Hiromi from an online video, and figured he'd check it out. Then his brother comes back and almost falls as he sits next to me, grabs my shoulder to steady himself, and immediately extends his hand to say hello. I tell them, as I always do, that they are in for a real treat, which is an understatement.
And, as always, it's somehow even better than the night before. That it, of course it was better than the previous night! I'd finished a bowl of oatmeal a couple hours before. I actually had nutrients in my system! The guy next to me was yipping and howling throughout the show. A few times I heard him say, "Why isn't it louder in here?" referring to the crowd.
When it finished, he told me that his brother was Larry Graham, the famed bass player of Sly & the Family Stone and Graham Central Station. He's the one to whom I attribute the quote at the beginning. He was completely blown away. He said performances like that convince him there's a God.
So of course, I decided to get a ticket for the next set, and since I was one of the only holdovers from the first show, I had my pick of seats, and got to sit front row center. That's when I slowly met three more fans I've seen at the Blue Note over the years. One had even gone to Philadelphia and Princeton to see her recently. The show was sublime, and I even tried a bowl of mashed potatoes.
My favorite part was that the new guy who sat across the table from me was wearing a "Thundercat" shirt. They're a band with an incredible bass player, but for me, there was, as usual, added symbolic significance.
I love words. They're my trade, my craft, my delight. So my first word was pretty important, right? Well, when I was learning to speak, there was a television show called Thundercats. Apparently, according to my mother and sister, one day I came home from the babysitter's and started yelling, "Thundercats, hooooooooooo!" and then smacking things with some kind of stick object. Of course, in their version, I say, "Fun-da-cats, hooooo!" And I haven't changed since.
Of course, Hiromi won over the new guy and we all bathed in her musical beams once more. Until the next visit...
When I got home, it had totally been worth the late night. Then indigestion kicked in and I got five hours of sleep. I'd weighed calling in the afternoon before, but had decided that I could do it and should because they were understaffed. Also, I knew my 6 year anniversary was approaching, and I hadn't come that far because I was made of sugar candy.
After being very uncomfortable in the morning, I ate some gelatin for breakfast, and saltines and vitamin water got me through the day. Thanks to Hiromi, I had more energy than my students. The topic was "Inspired Minds."
Ironically, the morning teacher who had replaced me in the most advanced class, TOEFL (I'm the level below right now), called in sick this morning, so they just split his class among other teachers. Then I just checked my journal, and I started working here (well, the Bronx, but same company) exactly six years ago today. I thought it was tomorrow or Wednesday.
Alright, that's all I got for now. I'm gonna focus on this boiled chicken and potatoes, my first real meal in five days. At this point, I don't even care if I digest well. Apparently, however I feel, I can draw energy from talking with people
Sunday was rainy and altogether pretty drab, and I was very hungry and tired from lack of nutrients, having not had anything one could call a "meal" in four days, unless saltines and the occasional banana or gelatin count as meals. I spent a couple hours writing the previous piece, and then figured I'd just do some laundry and watch television. Easy Sunday evening, get ready for the work week, try to regain some strength and hope I could eat more, even though my stomach was still giving me a fit.
Once I finished the piece, I thought, "Right, but that show last night was SO GOOD... and it may be another couple years before I get to see Hiromi perform again... alright, I'll see the early show... but I have to do laundry."
Thus, I race to do laun nodry, finish at 7:10 pm, get on the train, arrive at the show five minutes before it starts, and I hear someone taking tickets say, "Alright, tell everyone else it's all just standing room in the back near the bar from now on."
I approach the counter and ask with a smile, "Any random solo seats left?"
She smiles and says, "In fact, there's one left, but shhh! Don't tell anyone!" Sometimes there are advantages to going it alone.
They bring me to the third row of tables, right in the center, a perfect view. I squeeze into my seat, and strike up a conversation with the gentleman nearby. He's up from Florida, and is heading back the next day, but someone he knew played with Stanley Clarke, and he knew Hiromi from an online video, and figured he'd check it out. Then his brother comes back and almost falls as he sits next to me, grabs my shoulder to steady himself, and immediately extends his hand to say hello. I tell them, as I always do, that they are in for a real treat, which is an understatement.
And, as always, it's somehow even better than the night before. That it, of course it was better than the previous night! I'd finished a bowl of oatmeal a couple hours before. I actually had nutrients in my system! The guy next to me was yipping and howling throughout the show. A few times I heard him say, "Why isn't it louder in here?" referring to the crowd.
When it finished, he told me that his brother was Larry Graham, the famed bass player of Sly & the Family Stone and Graham Central Station. He's the one to whom I attribute the quote at the beginning. He was completely blown away. He said performances like that convince him there's a God.
So of course, I decided to get a ticket for the next set, and since I was one of the only holdovers from the first show, I had my pick of seats, and got to sit front row center. That's when I slowly met three more fans I've seen at the Blue Note over the years. One had even gone to Philadelphia and Princeton to see her recently. The show was sublime, and I even tried a bowl of mashed potatoes.
My favorite part was that the new guy who sat across the table from me was wearing a "Thundercat" shirt. They're a band with an incredible bass player, but for me, there was, as usual, added symbolic significance.
I love words. They're my trade, my craft, my delight. So my first word was pretty important, right? Well, when I was learning to speak, there was a television show called Thundercats. Apparently, according to my mother and sister, one day I came home from the babysitter's and started yelling, "Thundercats, hooooooooooo!" and then smacking things with some kind of stick object. Of course, in their version, I say, "Fun-da-cats, hooooo!" And I haven't changed since.
Of course, Hiromi won over the new guy and we all bathed in her musical beams once more. Until the next visit...
When I got home, it had totally been worth the late night. Then indigestion kicked in and I got five hours of sleep. I'd weighed calling in the afternoon before, but had decided that I could do it and should because they were understaffed. Also, I knew my 6 year anniversary was approaching, and I hadn't come that far because I was made of sugar candy.
After being very uncomfortable in the morning, I ate some gelatin for breakfast, and saltines and vitamin water got me through the day. Thanks to Hiromi, I had more energy than my students. The topic was "Inspired Minds."
Ironically, the morning teacher who had replaced me in the most advanced class, TOEFL (I'm the level below right now), called in sick this morning, so they just split his class among other teachers. Then I just checked my journal, and I started working here (well, the Bronx, but same company) exactly six years ago today. I thought it was tomorrow or Wednesday.
Alright, that's all I got for now. I'm gonna focus on this boiled chicken and potatoes, my first real meal in five days. At this point, I don't even care if I digest well. Apparently, however I feel, I can draw energy from talking with people
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