I almost forgot... the piano tuner came today. I don't know why, but i always love it when he comes. He's a quircky little guy, but something about listening to him just hitting the keys over and over again is so relaxing. I can sit in my office and first it's one note... several times; then another... several times; then another; then a few in a row. It is so slow and tedious. Simple. Maybe that's what I like about it. It's kind of like when you're sitting in a barber chair getting a haircut. It's like nothing else is going on in the world. You are just "here."
I think that would be a cool job -- to tune piano's. But, you know what else would be cool... is if someone would come once a year or so and... tune ME. You know, someone to sit down and have all their attention focused on nothing other than getting my life in tune... So I sounded good; looked good. Yeah, I think I need tuned. Slowly. Tediously. Go ahead, Spirit... please.
This notes for you.
peace. r...
2 comments:
My only exposure (to date) to NYC was in the late 80s, when my father signed over a compensatory "free flight" airline voucher just days before it expired. I flew from Winnipeg to Manhattan with nothing but a day-pack and a pocket full of American cash. I landed at JFK and phoned a half-dozen cheap hotel possibilities (including the Chelsea). Sorry, bub - no vacancy. The West Side YMCA, on the other hand, was ready to take me in.
The room they gave me was smaller than your average dorm: just enough room for a cot and a television. No matter - that was all the room I needed. The real delight of the West Side Y was the noise. I don't know if it's always this way, but it seemed like every single room in that place had a musician warming up for some sort of try-out. Flutes, clarinets, trumpets and trombones doing scales and arpeggios, playing little bits of score. I felt like I'd been given a bed in the middle of the orchestra pit, and I loved it!
I think scales must be some sort of prayer language... like a musical spiritual discipline.
Thanks for the story, man.
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