We've played a show, I've danced on some subway trains, travelled through rural New York State, jumped on a hotel bed at length in Pittsfield, MA, and wrangled with the internet, here, in the lovely Crowne Plaza Pittsfield/Berkshires long enough to elicit consistent function
consistent enough to merit a modest .jpg and my prose, before you
we went out to the Brew Works after the show and I was able to brag about being sober for nigh 3 months to a handful of bandmates. I ordered my hamburger medium and had several refills of Pepsi, all to the tune of some local band playing a myriad smooth, traditional, funky jazzes
I offered that this might be some manner of punishment to the members of the ensemble with jazz degrees; some past misdeed, perhaps, for which they needed to be punished.
They did have some smooth originals, funky basslines, and a decent knowledge of standards matched only by their mediocre feel and juvenile improvisational development
I noticed that the Brooklyn-based jazz musicians in the band did not make too much of a fuss, making smart ass remarks about the music
We're getting a little anecdotal--"what I said at dinner"--of my list of notable absences in Pittsfield was I pleased to strike "calypso," with a teary-eyed rendition of St. Thomas.
And on we go.
I rapped with Oliver about writing and performing music together. I'm just going to write some stuff the best way I know how. I'm not sure when, probably not now. Did you smell that lemon, did you kiss that cow? I'd like to down chow things are dead in this town.
I wish I had a video for you guys. I neglected to transfer the super special tour video I had prepared prior to my departure, from my external hard drive to this here C:
so I can't imagine I'll be doing much video editing in this 37 degree weather--
fans of tangled prose rejoice, for there will be no distracting youtube embeds in this blog so long as I am able to write it
here on the road
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