Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Goodbye, Andrew Hill


Hank Shteamer eulogizes the late, brilliant Andrew Hill better than I could have done, so here's a jump to his thoughts. Check out his links too, especially the recordings from Mary McPartland's Piano Jazz show; the interview is as effortless as the playing is sublime.

Electric Guitar Experiment

I still listen to Ed with great wonder and awe; this video clarifies everything but explains nothing.

Bert and Ernie Experiment

I used to watch them with great wonder when I was young; this short video clarifies nothing.

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Friday, April 20, 2007

Concerning Travel

"He is, of course, the best of travelers, for he is not put off by the vagaries of trains, inn-keepers, or the elements. And since it is the impact of the place upon him and not himself on the place which concerns him, his expeditions are usually both comfortable and successful."

- Phyllis McGinley

I discovered this quote the day following my last post.

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Train to Tokyo Airport





Speeding from vast immesuarble Tokyo
on a train
to the airport
with a feeling like I never was there.

Sunday, April 15, 2007

BLUE STONE

a poem by Dick Hugo

A blue stone is only one piece
of a huge blue stone no one can find.
A blue stone is anything but
a blue stone. It is a speck of sky
in your hand or a tiny bit of sea.
Of all stones, it contains
the most magics. It can veer your life
away from poverty to riches. It can grow a tree
exactly where you need shade. Just rub
a blue stone and make a wish. A blue stone
becomes the blue marble shooter
you won all those marble games with.
I always act indifferent
around blue stones, sort of nonchalant
like I feel they're nothing special.
That way they work best for me.
I avoid cold faces and cruel remarks.
When I sail a blue stone downwind into
the long blue day, armies start marching.
When I find the stone, armies stop.
When I sail a blue stone into the wind
that always precedes a rain in Montana
and then find the stone and pick it up
a bird sings blue rain.
Days I can't find a blue stone
no matter where I look, I know they've returned
every one to the big blue stone they came from
somewhere in blue mountains,
a place unmapped and roadless
that can't be seen from the air.

- Richard Hugo

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Springtime on the Mall




Springtime is the city's best season. The residents are pleased to come out of their tiresome apartments and to mingle in the museums with visitors from around the globe. The warm air guarantees the many blooming parks to be full with revelers and their dogs, and kites floating high into the clouds until long after the sun goes down. And on this day, we set off to meet a painter we'd not seen in years...