Yesterday, on my way home, the guitarist who often plays in the southwest isde of the 42nd street station was playing "Memory" from CATS. Today, there was a handicapped man in a wheelchair parked on the corner of 39th and 7th, playing "Reflection" from MULAN on a trumpet. And the other day there was a college kid playing violin on the A-platform, making a spectacular attempt at "Ave Maria."
I don't know where I was going with that. Happy observation? Artistic pleasure? Sympohnic Meditation? There ya go. Who knows…
In other news, I'm reaching a point of turmoil where I like where I am enough to stay, but I hate it enough to desire to move on. A year from now, I don't want to be in this same seat. Year from now I want to be somewhere else. Not just WORK somewhere else. I want to move on just a little bit…at a time. A bigger show, I bigger part, a bigger paycheck, a bigger knowledge… I want to move on. New York's been my ideal for so long—for real, there's no place like it. But maybe IT is not what I want right now. I mean, seriously, whatever happened to wanting to be everywhere at once, to exploring? I want to split everything I own between a giant travelling trunk and a storage cube on the upper west side and go on tour. Or move everything I own to another county. Anywhere. Italy, Sicily, Spain, Argentina, Peru, England, Portugal, Germany, Turkey, China, Greece, Austria, Israel, India, Sri Lanka, Ireland, Japan, Russia, Laos…somewhere new. Somewhere where creativity still means something to someone. Somewhere where life does not revolve around the million dollars you might win tomorrow. Whatever happened to baby jane? Maybe she just ran away.
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