These are unlucky days; they happen to all of us, there's nothing we can do about them, and they're not at all what I want to talk about.
I want to talk about the bad days where sole culpability rests unquestionably with yourself. The days when you repeatedly F#@% yourself through progressively worse choices and stupid decisions.
That's the kind of day I'm talking about: Thursday.
Rather than extol the long chain of events that led me to a dark place by about 7 pm, let's focus on the last few links and the turnaround (or at least hiccup) on which this post is supposedly centered.
The descent to which I allude is not only a metaphorical one, it coincided nicely with the sunset. Not the picturesque version, but the kind where shadows grow to encompass everything in sight and spread their icy fingers everywhere. I arrived at the main branch of the New York Public Library (the one with the lions) around 5:50 pm with every intention of a full night of research and paperwriting. Imagine my surprise when the door attendant turned me away because the building was closing down. Apparently, in the city that never sleeps, public librarians don't work late on Thursdays.
Things go down (further) from there, but let me just say it ends with me paying $8 for
a disgusting entree of Tofu-and-something as my second dinner of the evening.
And then - lost somewhere underneath Times Square while transferring trains - I came across a magical reversal. (note: This links nicely with my post of a few days ago, stumbling on the unexpectedly cool).
From down the long hallway separating the 7th and 8th avenue branches of the subway, I heard a wailing cacophony. Echoes and screeches reached me from 50 yards away, but as I approached I found the Alex LoDico Ensemble. (UPDATE - Video from the actual concert I caught) It was a drummer, 3 saxophonists, electric guitar, electric bass all under the lead of a very persistent (and sweaty) trombonist, Sr. LoDico.
They laid down a heavy groove while each of the saxes took turns burning up their solos, followed by a literally walk-on vitruoso electric violin (plugged into the guitar amp for extra wah-wah effect). There was someone there with a video camera, and I just hope and pray it makes it onto YouTube at some point. For now, you'll have to live with an example of a performance from April 2007.
I won't say it was the most meaningful event in my life, or even my week. And it wasn't the finest jazz concert I've ever attended, but it was exactly what I needed at the time.
The day continued along its prescribed path - turns out it was more of a speed bump than a turnaround - but at least I had those 10 minutes of unadulterated joy to buoy me up.
No perscriptive solution on this one; You can't always count on a publicly-funded Music Under New York program to save the day.
But when it does, you might as well be thankful.
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::(lame) Texpatriot
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Amen to that. The 'Saw Lady' (sawlady.com/blog )- another Music Under New York performer, always elevates my spirit when I pass through the 14th street subway station. And in general - the presence of a musician in the gloomi subway makes me feel safer, like I'm not alone. I'm thankful.
ReplyDeleteDue to the interminable construction on campus, my once straight-shot walk to the psychology building now involves going through the music building, into the parking garage, up one floor, around Centennial Hall, and then to the psychology building. The nice thing, though, is that it is not uncommon to walk into the music building to find some random group rehearsing some really beautiful a capella piece.
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