we just got a flash flood warning. it's been raining like crazy, hailing yesterday. we're having an intermission right now, but the clouds are booking along, the sky greying again as i type, & we're sure for another deluge. when i walked out of the local pizza parlor earlier, the air smelled like christmas, so clean it revivifies, excites, shocks the senses in a stirring way that makes a person remember: i am ALIVE! such moments make me shiver & go, oh sh*t! i have to jump posthaste into the next duty so i don't go hog mad. hedonism & wildness lurk around each next corner, you know... or crippling depression... so best to chop wood, carry water, stay busy, let the wildness explode in controlled places, in musical &/or other passionate moments...
postings say the san andreas fault is about to pop. if it does, i don't believe we'll perish (knock wood) cause we're not in a decrepit 100 year old dwelling or multi-floored poverty complex, like too many who've unnecessarily perished in past super-quakes nearer the equator.... however, a whole lot of our antiquey sh*t will be destroyed, & maybe that will be for the best, long as james, cat & i make it through (& the dog next door)... there's no chance of a tsunami rolling thru & overtaking us, as horrifyingly happened in japan, you know... back in OC when i had my time there, they had green metal tsunami warning signs posted here & there. james told me he'd picked the apartment dwelling he did because it was at a local "high point" -- at least 80 feet above sea level, i'd guess. if a quake hits down there, coastal OC is gone, wiped out, history, a sludge patch, nothing left, bye-bye, you get my drift. i was happy when i read if the san andreas collides w/the cascadia plate, which might happen, the northwest corner of the U.S. also might go under, but my favorite uncle ralphy will be saved cause he & aunt pam are on the eastern side of this possible crash...
ah, this all rears its head to be quite selfish talk, now that i review... really, i hope nobody is killed in any upcoming earthquake or tsunami. however, if coastal OC falls to the ocean floor to be discovered in future millenia, mu or atlantis-style, i will not cry at all. again, that is if somehow, impossibly, nobody is killed. even people i don't like -- don't want them to be toasted by mother nature.
oh, maybe west-smellay will go under, too. so sad that would be. again, no deaths -- just get rid of the whole impacted snotty privileged area...
i love my family. i love my sponsor. i love my friends. peewee the cat is mercurial but quite a beautiful little creature, all big intoxicating eyes & soft fur & claws of death... i love him, too. my finger hurts. i love playing the piano. i just blew out another key on the left hand side of my console yamaha. damned stomping left hand. i think my favorite pianist right now is meade lux lewis. i need to get better. i need to practice, practice, practice. the music thrums thru me all the time; i know my love & passion for it will mean that now is the time finally for me to become more than merely a good pianist. my changing role vis-a-vis james & his music ensures i will be playing A LOT more: all this is great! what an opportunity. what a life.
next week we play with stephen at shenanigan's. next weekend we all practice at a cool-looking rehearsal space near union station LA. i hope we get to go to the last bookstore after or before, or philippe's, or both. last time i took the train that way to meet james in long beach, i missed the train, had to take the bus, then didn't get to explore downtown at all, tho i ran like hell once i got off the bus to union station & thus was able to grab a cheese sandwich & some pickles & some coffee from strawdusted-floored philippe's... our local pizza parlor's best pie is a cheese. it is salty-yummy with a delicious crust. just started finally on jeffrey eugenides' book in the pizza joint, eating a nice scrumptious salad, watching the stormy sky roll past, marveling at the pulitzer prose of the book. some people can really, really, really, really write. and the rest of us can place words on paper.
afterward worked on books at the thrift shop. the gal who volunteers today always brings her darling pink-cheeked baby, who one day will have memories of scooting around the store's dirty cement floor in her walker, her baby bare feet cool & filthy, & probably she will have few allergies because of all the sh*t wafting thru the atmosphere of that store. james just walked in with hair sticking up & belly full of pizza & asked, "watcha doin'?" now he is chuckling on the phone in the other room while kitty makes gentle crunching noises while scarfing at his fat-inducing kitty junk food...
sunday we play the OC marketplace. we will blow the place to pieces, i say. whiteboy james rules.
No comments:
Post a Comment