Listening to jazz has to be the freest feeling in the world.It’s a playground of cautious affirmations. Where you can place yourself on top of the highest mountain.Where you can get way down and dirty into your feelings,and still stand. You stand tall and proud for the part you’ve played,no matter how subtle.It’s where passion…
It’s romantic, isn’t it? A walk by the river in the city as the sun sets. Maybe Paris, London, Chicago—New York, even. But it is enchanting. The bustling of shift-changers and shoppers, entertainers setting up for the evening—everyone else coming down. And all of this in a peaceful, almost rhythmic kind of way. Now that’s…
You know, it wasn’t always this way. This place used to be ALIVE! Everyday there were important meetings, rehearsals, celebrations, god—you name it. I guess somewhere along the way things just started slowing down. And…and I mean —well shoot—it couldn’t have been that noticeable, right? I mean…I don’t know…it does seem perfectly logical to me…
Picture it. America—A portrait. Painted right down to the numbers on the old mailbox. Red brush taps over a matted, pale, blueish-white, rust its edges like the tilted hood of the broken down ford in the front yard. A basketball goal tirelessly supervises the venous emergence of green blades and stems that gerrymander a forgotten…