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| Okay, so i had an amazing summer of the american west ... but more importantly, i discovered an amazing pianist upon my arrival home. I was impressed enough to make a zanga post ... now doesn't that say something?
Kristjan Randalu
After being blown away by his amazing touch (of the keys) and his rhythmic inventiveness, I found that he's released a couple of albums and is getting a masters in Jazz performance from Manhattan School of Music. He's Estonian born, with a move to Germany and then another to New York. I had assumed before he was some 20 year old punk from new york with so much freaking amazing skill that...damn. Now i feel a little bit of solace in the fact that he's probably a few years older than that. Damn ... awesome! | | |
| Alright kids... it's gettin to be that time again!
that's a picture of Kresge auditorium, which overlooks duck lake. Duck Lake of course is located adjacent to Green Lake. And we all know lies between the to lakes!!!
i tried to stay away ... | | |
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Words
falling like rain
Little droplettes of idea
falling
raining
Cool drops on a warm cheek
Yellow streetlights
shine blue on the wet pavement
and words fall
like rain
in my mind
as i lonely walk
shuffling my feet in a rhythm of thought. | | |
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Sometimes the world tries to fool you into thinking you have to fit into a box, with what you want to love and or do.
That's better
oh
and
The End
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| community is a powerful thing, and the further I progress in any field, I am thourouhgly reminded that I'm not complete without a community. Furthermore since there are communities out there, I know i am not the only one.
do your mouthpiece exercises
do 100 cartwheels a day
eat all your yogurt covered blueberries
read well your classic literature
and all that JAZZ
oh and sing all your solfeggio
Fare well my friends | | |
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13 ways of looking at a blackbird
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I
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the black bird.
II
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.
III
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.
IV
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.
V
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.
VI
Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.
VII
O thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blackbird
Walks around the feet
Of the women about you?
VIII
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.
IX
When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.
X
At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.
XI
He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.
XII
The river is moving.
The blackbird must be flying.
XIII
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.
- Wallace Stevens
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