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Sunday, July 17th 2005
| Banging Away |
[17 Jul 2005|01:26am] |
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music |
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Unreal Truths |
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My djembe instructor, AC, has me working on four four. The rests give 4/4 an extra dynamic similar to jig triplets. When we're finished with the Samba stuff we will be working on Nigerian and Uruguayan rhythms. Once I get the Uruguayan solid, AC will join me on junjun. That'll rock.
The more time I spend with the drum, the less I have to think about it. Just like any other instrument, you have to practice until you get to a point where you play from the soul and not the brain. Brain players may have nice technique, but dancers find it abysmal.
We already have two drummers, but learning djembe and dumbek is fun. It's something I've been working on for over ten years, but never under an instructor. With my recent fetish for Bulgarian music, I'm finding the drums to be very relaxing. Even therapeutic.
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Saturday, July 16th 2005
| Singing Swing |
[16 Jul 2005|01:12pm] |
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mood |
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artistic |
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music |
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Faux Swing and the Bubbies |
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I've recently begun sifting through the songs I've written over the years, looking for material for our new Swing band. We now have five pieces in the band, and are working on jitterbug, lindy hop and west coast swing sets.
It's an incredible opportunity to sing, harmonize and travel with a fine group of musicians. The energy from swing dancers equals and possibly exceeds that of other types of dances and performances.
There's a local swing musicians jam that is very inspirational. It's an exciting weekly event, and the people are so welcoming. I never thought we would have swing so close to home.
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Friday, June 10th 2005
| Buttercups |
[10 Jun 2005|10:09am] |
I've discovered, this Spring, the dichotomy of buttercups. Somehow, the garden in front of my home has mostly taken care of itself for the few years since we moved here. Now that I'm in good health, alas...my garden is not.
Gardening is new to me. It is something I enjoyed from a distance until today. I have looked at the buttercups each year and thought, 'Is it a flower? A weed?' How can one weed a garden if they cannot identify or classify the plants? But the buttercups were kind of pretty, and seemingly innocuous.
I've been doing Buttercup Therapy all morning. The heart of the buttercup contains a disgusting sort of spittle. A frothing, ubiquitous, nasty plant, the buttercup. How could I let it get this bad?
It started out as maybe something nice. Or, if not nice, nothing more than slightly annoying. The buttercups added a bit of colour amongst all the other lovely colours in the garden. But the buttercup wasn't happy with that. It wanted to be the "Star" of the garden.
If the buttercup could not be the most noticeable, it extended its frothing, foaming, seething tentacles into the heart of the other flowers, weaving and strangling them, to share in their sunlight. The buttercup pushed its little offshoots to the forefront, not seeming to notice when it stepped on another's roots. A buttercup can be overbearing and insidious in its attempt to dominate the entire garden, forcing its yellowness on the unique beauty of the other plants. And the odour is not to be believed.
Now, all but the most hearty plants are beginning to disappear. At first I thought to give my garden up to the buttercup, and go start a new garden elsewhere, but dammit that seems wrong. Can I share the garden with buttercups? It is a constant, tiring battle.
In defense of the other flora, I've begun pulling and uprooting, but there is much more work to be done. When finished, I hope there will be just the right amount of buttercup in the garden. Really, none at all would be quite pleasant, but that may be unreasonable to hope.
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Saturday, April 9th 2005
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[09 Apr 2005|02:52pm] |
There once was a young man in his twenties, who met a young lady of approximately the same age. When their eyes met, there was instant chemistry. She, the bolder of the two, approached him with a silly and flirtatious comment. He blushed, and was totally smitten. Though the young couple were falling in love, he was obligated to go away to serve his country in foreign lands. The young man, overseas for many years, finally returned only to find that his lady had married another man and, with this new man, started a family.
It was a sad and frustrating time. Had the young lady only known, surely she would have waited. Resigning himself to a life alone, the man worked in the family business, pouring his heart and soul into all he did. His family began to pressure him to find a wife and settle down. They said he needed children to whom he could one day pass down the family business.
One fresh day, the now middle-aged man was out with some friends, and there met a sweet girl who was shy and very beautiful. She blushed whenever he was near, and it was obvious to all but the pair in question that she and he would make a perfect match. The families of the two began pushing them together. Our man found her to be lovely and dear, but in his heart she would never replace his first true love. He thought about this darling new girl. She was a bit young, but yes, she would make a very fine wife. For the first time in years, he actually considered settling down at last.
After a big wedding, everyone began telling the man what a perfect choice he made. He was fond of her. Maybe he did love her. He would certainly try to be a good husband, and take care of her. Being a wife and mother, and helping with the family business were all that mattered to his twenty-something bride. Though sometimes her behavior was childish and nearly unbearable, his wife also matured into the most loving of all mothers, and an admirable lady. Everyone adored and respected her. The man was proud of his wife, and tried to love her. He wanted to give her his heart but, now and then, he would catch a glimpse of his first love and knew he could love no other.
Years into his marriage, he felt lonely. His wife didn't seem to be interested in the things he enjoyed. It was difficult to converse on any level. Lady number one was going through similar times in her own marriage. After seeing each other at a social event, the man and his lost love struck up a conversation. They became friends, but somehow it felt wrong. Casual friends don't feel such intensity of devotion, and there was an unrequited and quite undiscussed passion between them. With this new relationship, it was only natural that they felt more and more disappointed with their marriages.
The lady's husband, and the man's wife were not oblivious to the change that came over their spouses. They detected a secret cheeriness in their partner, and suspicions were aroused. Each forbade their spouse contact with this seemingly new found friend. But this only hardened the resolve of the couple to stay in contact. It had been so long, and they both were determined it was nothing more than friendship. Or so they told themselves.
Rumors spread, and all were angered that the man would hurt his sweet wife in such a fashion. He and his notorious paramour were the target of much hatred. Among many other reasons, this slander eventually caused the lady's marriage to fall apart. A few years later, the man's marriage also dissolved. His wife had felt a third person come between them, and resented the other woman with an utter fury. No-one blamed her. As the ex-wife got on with her life, it seemed that everyone still held her in the highest esteem. Everywhere she went, she made friends. She was charitable and kind and good. Then tragedy struck, and she was killed in a horrific accident. Our man was grief stricken. No, it wasn't his fault, but he felt a sense of guilt anyway. The mother of his children had died, and the kids were putting up such a brave front. Everyone mourned her loss.
As things began to settle down, he cautiously approached his old friend, and love. They spent time getting to know each other, and realized all that they had missed having lived separate lives. They discussed at length the mistakes they had made. He told her of his interested, and was surprised at how compatible they were. It was so different from the relationship he shared with his late wife. There was a bond reforming.
The years passed and the man and his lady began to allow others to see their relationship publicly. There was much hatred shown toward the two. The lady was accused of breaking up the man's marriage. The man accused of being unfaithful to his wife, and ultimately causing her death. Though that was not true, it was devastatingly hurtful. The man's children resented his lady friend, and had lost much respect for their father.
The couple would not let adversity affect their relationship. Eventually their families began to accept that the two would persevere. They were married yesterday. Still shunned by most people, they grow stronger. It's tragic, this "happy ending".
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Monday, November 15th 2004
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[15 Nov 2004|04:36am] |
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music |
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Growling Old Woman/Clumsy Lover |
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The gig was outstanding. Henry Jankiewicz is the most amazing fiddler, and John Rossbach is a rhythm machine on mandolin and guitar. I felt fortunate to sit in with them. There was a decent turnout of dancers all day. Next dance we're hosting the Great Bear Trio.
The Rossbachs stayed overnight with us, along with their dog, Banjo. The dog looks a lot like our last dog, Sasha. Of course we fell in love with him. How rude. My dog just walked in, broke wind, then left. For a five pound dog...shew-eeeeee. :( I don't think she read what I just wrote.
We had a righteous jam session with them today. Then they left, and we had another jam session with a local boy who plays fiddle. He asked us to be on his new CD, which he wants to publish by the end of the year. What?! We better get cracking.
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