Blog

Rants, Raves and Reflections from the mind of a musician.

SOMEWHERE: this moment

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SOMEWHERE: this moment

I sense big change ahead. I don't know where the road is leading - how this change will manifest - but I am absolutely certain that it's coming.

I have much more to give; much more to say. I'm more than just a drummer, more than just a musician. I'm an artist, and I have artistic curiosities that transcend the boundaries of genre or discipline. Whatever is next, I am eager to share it with all who are open to receive. In the meantime, I'll keep my head down and get my work done, occasionally stopping to take notice of light and shadow, color and shade, sound and song. I'm just here for the beauty.

SAPPORO: 339PM

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Sun is setting early here. It's 339PM and it feels like dusk. The sun peeks out on occasion. Clouds are hanging low and moving fast. And I miss you.

 

#postcardsfromeverywhere

FUKUOKA: 845PM

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The reflection of shuffling pedestrians dances along the ever moving surface of the river. Patrons covered by transparent plastic tarps sit at street food counters. The air is dense with the sound of in-between-bite banter. They laugh from the bottom of their bellies, which are slowly and steadily becoming fuller. It is Thursday night - and the imminent end of a stressful workweek beckons them to talk a bit louder, and drink a bit heavier.  They greedily slurp noodles and gulp sake until they've had their fill, and then they stagger home, one day closer to a weekend reprieve.

 

#postcardsfromeverywhere

CHESAPEAKE, 4:23PM: PAGES

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The den, the main gathering room of our home, was surrounded by wood-paneled walls and adorned with heavy wooden furniture -- the kind of stuff you might see on a very old ship. There was a coffee table fashioned out of wooden planks, finished deep brown. Dad's whiskey glasses, and those of his guests, would rest on these planks and leave dark, wet circles behind as evidence of their revelry. Years later, wearing the clothes of an older man, in the quieter daylight hours, I would come to sit at this table and read and write. The laughter and thumping of feet would still reverberate, bouncing about the walls of my memory. 

 

#postcardsfromeverywhere