It is Christmastime and, owing to weather, grounded for a rather good while. (I did not yet understand these circumstance would come to be routine. The innocence of youth.) These are friendlier skies .... um wait a minute, I believe is Newark. Other tales in Philadelphia ... Yes, okay, Newark, and my vote is Newark is the least depressing of the New York airports. And that's saying something right there.
A piano from someone's holiday gig is near my gate. Sit down and begin to tinker. Not that I ever considered piano my instrument, nor have I ever entertained the notion I am able to actually play the thing. My bass is at my side in its HSC. These are the days of friendlier skies, before air travel felt like imprisonment in a K-Mart on Black Friday.
He came by to see who that is at the piano with a bass. We had a very fine conversation, and he wished me well with my bass. That's how I recall it. You know, now that I think of it, I'm sure I showed him my Stingray. I don't specifically recall he held it. Nice to think he may have.
Scents for men and women alike are strongly discouraged in public these days, and especially so in medical facilities. And yet soap, water, and clean clothes are not a guarantee when navigating the public sphere.
Very very greasy, sings David Lindley.
And I was today years old when I learned Lothar and The Hand People were the first band to use a Moog in live performances.