But Pam stopped teaching and I entered the world of work and school and having a social life and music became less important for a while. My grandparents bought me a piano so I always had something to play, but I’m sorry to say there was a couple of years where I didn’t regularly knock the dust off of it. Around this time, a new guy moved to town. Now, you have to realize something here. I was 19 years old, living in a small town (pop. 1,800) and I didn’t know any one else like me. I was the weird kid who wore a fedora and an old topcoat and played the piano at the coffeehouse for people double and triple my age. Sure, my skills really didn’t surpass the level of a few parlor tricks and mangled Beethoven sonatas interspersed with Star Wars themes, but that was my shtick, and it was my shtick. One day I hear about this guy who moved into town, a few years older than me. I hear he wears a fedora and plays the meanest piano anyone had seen in this town. I’m thinking, “Who is this guy? This is my town and this is my shtick! How dare he!” After a couple weeks of reputation preceding him, I finally met him and saw him bust out a couple of tunes and whoa, I was blown away. I’d never seen anybody play piano like that. I think he played the Tiger Rag. His left hand was a blur and his right hand always knew where the melody should go. I immediately decided that we were going to be friends. That’s how I met Reese Gray.

He opened up the world of early jazz to me, got me listening to greats like Jelly Roll Morton and Louis Armstrong, Bix Beiderbecke, J. P. Johnson, King Oliver, Wingy Manone, Spike Jones, the Hoosier Hot-shots, so much more. And man, I really dug that music. Some people call it Dixieland, Hot Jazz, Traditional Jazz, or just Trad Jazz. It wasn’t like the elevator, Barnes & Noble jazz, the Kroger jazz or John Tesh that you hear so often but can’t whistle a single bar of after hearing it your whole life. It had power and youth, spontaneity and vigor, melancholy and passion, played by humans using all their humanity. But mostly, it was just fun. That’s how I got into 1920s jazz.

Reese got me off the sheet music, but first he found some written copies of tunes that he thought I should learn. W. C. Handy’s Memphis Blues was the first one he showed me. After I’d gotten the hang of the first couple sections I played it for him and he picked up his banjo-uke and tried to play along. Now, I’d never played ensemble in any fashion and had no clue how. I played a few bars and he stopped me. My rhythm was so bad he couldn’t play along with me at all. So he made me tap my feet when I played. Taught me the importance of rhythm. Pretty simple, but it was the missing element I needed. After a few years, my sense of rhythm increased, while I’m still working at it, I’m steady enough to play with folks. Meanwhile, instead of improvising being a side act, improvisation became the main attraction. That’s how I started to become an ear musician.

With my new skills, music became more and more important to me. I used it to purge emotions that I couldn’t talk about, or didn’t have anyone to talk to about. I used it when I needed a way to be angry but not destructive. I used it to purge unrequited passion. I used it to stimulate my mind. I used it to feed my inner human.

Or did the music use me? Psh — semantics.

Back in January, the Firecracker Jazz Band was in need of a piano player because Reese was leaving town for a couple months. With trepidation, I accepted. With about two weeks notice to learn 30 songs, I stepped up to the plate and practiced hard. After two rehearsals with the band I had my first real, professional experience playing music with them on Valentine’s Day, 2010. Took me almost 17 years to get there, but man was it worth it. I was nervous all that day, but as soon as I stepped up to the piano I knew I was where I was supposed to be. Since Valentine’s Day, I’ve played around 25 gigs total, and every one I play is a hell of a lot of fun, but playing May 14 at The Orange Peel was the highlight so far. The Peel was nearly packed as we opened for the very talented Carolina Chocolate Drops. The sound booth recorded our show. You can listen to it below. (Turn up your speakers — the gain is low.)

Playing music has been the best, most fun, most fulfilling thing I’ve done with the energies of my life. Thanks to all who helped me along the way, who made me love the music, who vouched for an amateur, who believed that I had music in me that had to come out. And to those that didn’t believe in me, you too pushed me forward to prove you wrong.

Granite soul sarcophagus
my heart worries like
a Pekingese butterfly.

Graduation ceremonies seem to be to glorify the institution and not the individual, but as I never graduated high school, I thought I’d participate at least once. It also helped me draw closure to my time at AB-Tech, which I needed. I’m so glad to be out of there.

I even got recognized a little: Citizen-Times — Sensible City

A lot has changed since I last signed off here — I’ve been accepted to UNC-A, something I’ve been trying to accomplish for six years. It feels good to have a plan, accomplish a major part of it and move forward with the next step falling into line. Maybe I’m just not used to the feeling of accomplishment, but it feels like an addiction which I will gladly surrender to.

At least I’m a better student then blogger.

I always try and keep Sundays free from too much economic activity or social obligation. It is a big help to my mental health to be able to sit at home and accomplish personal tasks, catch up on domestic work, practice music, or just relax with a book. And now that the semester has ended for me, I feel particularly light in spirit on this December Sunday.

I should start with yesterday. Yesterday morning I drove to Tryon, worked for my favorite clients and made good money before going to my grandparent’s to socialize and work on my grandfather’s new iMac. Awesome computer, really fun and easy to use and work on. Then I drove home, changed into a festive red and black get-up and went to MoDaddy’s to hear a band that I met last March. The Two Man Gentleman Band, from New York City played two killer sets while I drank whiskey and sang all the words I knew. I love their CDs, and the guys (Andy and Fuller) are great people and very talented musicians as well as snappy dressers (knickers!). I had promised them entertainment of the musical variety and afterwards we went to my friend Woody Pines’ house for a party populated almost entirely by musicians. Woody has an awesome old upright that has a great action for honky tonk and blues, and I sat down at it and kept it hot for nearly 3 straight hours. Sometimes I questions my musical ability, but not last night. I killed it for three straight hours, with only the brief of whiskey breaks. It felt awesome. Like most people, I have a lotof  musical potential; it’s nice when it breaks through the clouds once in a while. And the clouds have been breaking more and more often lately.

The past two Sundays I have taken myself out to the Dripolator Coffeehouse, purchased the New York Times and ate a nice big brunch of huevos rancheros with my usual double Americano and Emergen-C. I try and look my best (not always easy after a busy Saturday night) and be sociable with the other Sunday brunchers, and I always leave feeling like a million bucks. It’s a really great way for me to begin the end of my week.

I’ve had lots of new beginnings and milestones these past couple months. Lost an old friend/lousy roommate. New roomate Henry (of the Firecracker Jazz Band and Squirrel Nut Zippers) is an incredible musician and wants to play music all the time at the house. There is so much I have to learn from him. On Thursday, I finished my penultimate semester in my soon-to-be decade-long pursuit of an Associates degree.  Probably have 1 A (Music Theory I) and two Bs (Literature Based Research and Cultural Anthropology). Not bad, but probably not enough to bump me up to a 3.0 GPA, which I desperately need to keep my UNC-A hopes alive.

I’m also launching a new business and slowly getting out of the in-home computer biz. Not going to be a lot of long-term money in that, but I’m glad to pick up some random service as it’s usually easy-money. My new business will hopefully launch January 1. I’m really excited about it — I feel it’s the beginning of something really big for me.

Oh and somebody threw their shoes at President Bush today in Iraq.

So, this is my 100th post. To commemorate the occasion I’ve decided to try and break 200 by the end of the year. There’s about 100 days left, so this should keep my busy every day.

I find that I like blogging for a lot of reasons, and I don’t think vanity is one of them. Blogging turns writing and information collecting into a performance art; much more interesting than stamp-collecting to me.

First, it’s fun during the day when I think of something to know that it has a home. Instead of scribbling it down in some notebook that I file on the shelf I can feed it into a living document to be shared.

Second, it helps me hone my writing skills. Writing is a skill that would help me immensely at work and at school. I sometimes can write effortlessly, but more often it is a struggle to get a single paragraph out. Having a format in which I can do anything helps me to get the write juices flowing (pun intended) and silence that little self-doubt demon that’s the bane of so many’s creativity.

Third, it keeps me honest. Because this forum is open to any eyeballs that surf by, I feel sort of accountable for the content, and since the content is derived from my life, I feel that I should keep a clean act.

Fourth, things can be tedious or they can be fun. And if you can transmute the tedious into the fun, you win at life. Blogging is fun now.

I thought of this because I saw Mr. Riddle. I kidnapped him and brought him to Asheville to see the Firecracker Jazz Band play at the Rocket Club, and he asked me to be an extra in his next project which is filming tomorrow. He’s filming it at the cofeehouse in Tryon, where we met. The first friends I ever made outside of church or work was at that coffeehouse, and it always feels good to come back there — especially to work with Chris, who was the first guy to ever talk to me there. I was just weird guy in the corner that nobody knew, and when Chris said “The time has come,” I finished it with “the walrus said,” and I often think of that precise moment, when the outside world first recognized me.

Thanks, Chris.

My friends and I have been bubbling with talk of a move to New York City. Not immediately or anything, but the prospect excites me greatly. I’ve always had this self-defeating attitude that I was not good enough for New York City, but I’m trying to shed my self-imposed limitations and level up, to borrow an RPG term. As the song goes, if you can make it New York you can make it anywhere, and I’d like to see if I’m made of that stuff. I think there could be a lot for me there.

But I still am feeling the old frustrations, the old struggles, the old weaknesses that peck away at my potential. There’s all these things I feel I could be truly great at, the things I feel I have inside me that I can’t get out — I could be a great piano player, I could be a great designer, I could be a great ________. What stops me?

Me.

And so, I’m on big self-improvement kick again.

ONE: I’m going back to school, and I’m really excited about it. I have a great schedule — just Tuesdays and Thursdays. I’m taking Literature Based Research (again, because I’m lazy and a terribly non-prolific writer), Cultural Anthropology (awesome), and Music Theory I (4 credit hours, easy A.) I may yet be able to add a 1 credit Yoga.

TWO: Music has to be a bigger part of my life. I’m playing semi-seriously with a friend of mine, Elias, and we’ve had some killer songwriting collaborations. First time in a long time I’ve felt like I really had a great musical partnership that wasn’t a student-teacher thing.

THREE: Reading. I’ve been reading a great deal more lately. I ran into Malaprop’s I bought an awesome called Osman’s Dream, a start to finish history of the Ottoman Empire. But before I start that monster (660 pages!) I have to finish the Steven Pinker book that Laura bought me months ago, The Stuff of Thought by September 8 because the author will be at Malaprop’s that night. For as much of a nerd I am, I have never been to an author event at a bookstore, and I’m looking forward to it. I should develop a good question for him.

FOUR: I must write. I’m feeling flush with words and prose and have been re-reading some of my old material and I have to say I don’t know why I gave it up.

SUMMARY: Apollonian interests must triumph for this next phase in my life. The endless Bacchanals that have gripped my life and lifestyle must be brought into line with my larger goals. I’m on the verge of something, and I aim to vault myself over the edge.

Having life cut down to manageable bits has led to changes. I’ve cut back on my Dionysian tendencies and re-engaged my Apollonian to beneficial effect in life, mind and body; I’ve returned to reading and hopefully soon to writing; I’ve come up with several creative ideas (including an opera based on the Dutch East India Company and a William Golding/The Office parody called ‘Lord of the Files’ involving an office child care gone horribly wrong); and I’ve had trouble sleeping, because my mind does not like to go to rest and I’ve been working long hours.

The Hogarth oil painting to the right (I plan to do analysis of it here soon) is of my new hero, a man who made a fascinating combination of the Apollonian and Dionysian in himself: Sir Francis Dashwood, founder of the Hellfire Club. Is anyone interested in opening a chapter?

I’m making a new addition to my blogroll. David Seah is a pretty smart guy, and I like the way he organizes things on paper and on screen. It makes me want to organize myself better, so I can accomplish more. I’ve been kind of down lately, and I feel the need to take some time working on myself and my habits.  I don’t really want to grow up, but I really do need to grow.  I know how to change.

I feel pretty bad inside right now, maybe some outward discipline will help.

The mind is not a system constructed of abilities and learned behaviors that can be augmented, but rather a collection of inhibitions and barriers that can be systematically removed.

This may not be revolutionary to some people, but in some strange way this revelation has given me a great amount of relief and hope. Can anyone perhaps compare this to an existing philosophy? I’m not aware of any, and this idea seems new to me, but I’m sure someone else has gotten here centuries ago. Not that I would have liked to have been told about prior to now, for I feel that arriving at it on my own makes for a superior mortar in my mind.