over dinner

we'll see how many courses dinner will be

already started with olives, a sprouted bagel and a half with organic cultured unsalted butter, and GT's Raw Multigreen Kombucha--my favorite fizzy drink; the Cod is in the oven, I'm wondering if Michael Angelos Lasagne is going to make it into the meal before the two boxes of coconut milk ice cream sandwiches go down

someone should really come over and help me eat

went dancing today, got very aerobic, and apparently used some calories, good to shift out of the dumbass workday sponsored by moi not setting the alarm right, dance is as cliquish as ever, but at least a good wave of music today; I'm very independent in my dance these days, I don't want to make eye contact, I don't want to play games, if someone wants to shake it next to me or bump around a bit, cool; had a nice reconnection and walk-to-car with someone simultaneously leaving before the ad-nauseating "shareback" and announcement time, while chumpishly leaving my dancepants, sarong, and extra shirt behind, they call me slick

I keep meeting more folks interested in dance-related music projects, and I also stumbled today again across a voice that whispered maybe not here. I realize I am trying to save up money to invest in the musical equipment I need to become a professional musician, gig regularly and travel, so that feels right on. There's an aloofness here which gets in the way of manifesting stuff, and I also noticed today my own difficulty following through on stuff here, to get the energy up enough to overcome a kind of activation threshold

cod in a cup, still haven't washed the dishes since the other night's large dinner--perfect dinner, ending with cannolis and gelato; except for yet another corked bottle of vino from Trader Bozos, where Frido thinks it's because we keep it so hot in there half the wine spoils in the bottle, and I think he's right; maybe someday they'll hire professional management for their shops

backtrack, Cuban night, a couple of solos so sweet I was crying, learned something about the emotional commitment true music making calls for; duende I've heard it called elsewhere--every song makes you laugh, cry, or scream; and they all make you dance; it doesn't matter how good you are, it matters how well you have found your own voice; the chops inevitably follow

maybe someday I'll blog the single-male's-lovelife-in-Santa-Fe-blog, but not now and not likely before a stiff drink; maybe I'll have something intelligent to say later, after digesting the coconut flavored ice creams which were better than the banana splits--tricky to do banana well, I guess that's as good a place as any to leave it

except to say I'm looking for play-mates (of all kinds)who are emotionally invested in their lives, tired of cool, have never been a cool player of music or anything, and when I say I miss Italians what I really miss are folks who live in their emotions, and have done so enough to get their emotions working for them, make choices to be happy or at least committed to something; tired of being the actor, the speaker of truths, the keeper-of-the real, the clown, the intense one; still there are a few of you out there and I thank you for helping me stay sane

there goes a raven