The Pony in the Trash


not to fool with you, my littleapple is actually covered in snow today

WKCR.org is in the midst of a 2 week all Coltrane all the time fest...coming from the pink hello kitty in the corner, I hear Sonny Rollins finally being let of the phone after the eager interviewer's several attempts at baiting a personal recollection from the septagenarian. The old timers often pop into the studio or are corralled onto the phone- even when the memory hooks don't draw the curtains back for us to step into the scene, these cats always lay a languid bed of 'life is smooth inspite of it all' for us to pad barefoot across. If even for just a couple borrowed minutes at a time.

This casual encounter with living history is part of the bonus package you get by living in NYC. I'm amazed everytime I leave the house.
Parts of the drawbacks recall for me a drawing my pops made after I told him I'd move to New York. The map with points smattered about the left side and only one point way over yonder, lonely in the top corner of the right coast made me laugh at the time. Even three years later, I see more clearly what he meant- You can make a nice home for yourself alright, but your home team is your home team man.

bean (trying to be less, in Linnaea's words 'elusive'): "So I made this big career choice to go full throttle with the independent path and had my first client meeting today"

away team: "Oh. I got some new flip flops today."

shedding

I am wishing I had the skin of a long suffering black woman, vibrating slowly over deepset strings- the strings whose harmonics resonate in the -was it B flat?- note of the universe....
For starters, I sure wouldn't be leaving the pixie dust trail from my stint in Puerto Rico in criss- cross patterns between the computer, the desk and the kitchen....
The function in my brain set to translate the small things to mean bigger injurious things, would instead be set to translate small things into dust I fluff off my hopping radio with a spry little feather duster ....
Taking the mental trash of the day out, I'd be rewarded with plastic ponies and bright ribbons.
When I lay down exhausted, I'd fall asleep.


Hello Kitty just announced she is going to look at the rhythmic development of the last four years of Coltrane's life and I'm afraid that's just what I needed to pick up my pencil and pull out the tape.