Normandy trip - day 1
Well, I'm off on another two-week 'business trip'. I don't know how this one is going to turn out. I'm hoping that I'll get lots of time to study; this UNIX class, by the way, threatens to kick my lily ass. A lot hinges on if I can get reliable and regular Internet access on my time off while I'm out there. I'll find out in an hour or two.
Like I've told you before, I do like traveling by train. I got two hours of studying in this morning where I would have been burning dead dinosaurs and swearing at other motorists for seven hours. Travelling alone is lonely but it has its advantages. For one, I eat in places that I couldn't drag the MSU dead. I haven't gotten sick yet. For another I, observe stuff for as long as I want without being tugged in any direction whatever.
There were these guys in the train. They're both from Nancy. Well, actually, the guitarist is from Marseilles but he's living in Nancy. They decided to sit in the part of the train where the luggage goes and get in a little impromptu jam. The percussionist had this drum... thing... that's a lot like a box or a stool than a drum but louder than a stool. He said that it's Spanish and it's called a Cajole or something. But the noise of the train couldn't really drown out his percussion and the other passengers eventually plucked up the nerve to tell them to cut it out. At that point, the guitarist put away his guitar too but I know for a fact that no one could hear him in the next compartment. They got shut down, but not before I got to listen to them a little and talk about stuff. The percussionist didn't really impress me that much, but then again, percussionists never do, at least not as musicians. I've always seen them as a necessary evil and the member of any band that contributes good natured immaturity but rarely any real talent. Think Ringo Starr - classic drummer man. Of these two, the drummer was actually the friendlier, I attribute that to the fact that his roots are Lorraine. I'm beginning to think I'm an adopted "Lorrain" myself.
I'm getting off topic: The guitarist could really shred. I was immediately jealous. He wasn't a 'one-track' guitarist either although I could tell he had a penchant for Funk and Reggae.
I couldn't inconspicuously watch and listen to them so, at some point we had a conversation. It was all in code, but being that I am charitable, I'll translate; from French, to English, to code:
Drummer: Are you a musician? What he meant: Dude, you're old, you can't really like this racket.
Me: I play the guitar but I suck. What I meant: Dude, I wish I was young and stupid again with nothing better to do than play my guitar on a train to Paris so that we could hang out together.
Drummer: That's cool. What he meant: You might be okay then, but I doubt we could ever be seen together in public.
He eventually asked me if I was English (my accent) and when he learned that I'm from California, he was a lot more interested in talking about California than music.
Then I complimented the guitarist and remarked some unusual aspects of his style. We had a discussion about what I do and what they do and basically learned some stuff about each other. They were actually good guys. The drummer even remarked, after I took his picture, that he needed to cut his hair (signs of sub-conscious guilt for cultivating a look that doesn't really reflect the person inside). I told him to enjoy it while he can; he'll probably have to end up looking respectable sooner than he knows. They remind me of me before responsibilities made me what I am except the guitarist was honestly pretty good. He's more devoted to music than I was at his age; I hope he makes it in music if it's what he wants to do. As I get older, do feel sad that devoted and talented musicians can't survive doing what they love. I mean, people like me who lack focus deserve to end up in mundane jobs. My diversity is what prevents me from earning minimum wage while also preventing me from specializing enough to ever be excellent at anything. That's why I think it's sad when someone who knows what he wants to do and can't do anything else ends up earning minimum wage in a record shop or something. I guess there's nothing new under the sun.
If nothing else, they made about an hour of my train trip that much shorter. Sure beats driving - sure does.
Like I've told you before, I do like traveling by train. I got two hours of studying in this morning where I would have been burning dead dinosaurs and swearing at other motorists for seven hours. Travelling alone is lonely but it has its advantages. For one, I eat in places that I couldn't drag the MSU dead. I haven't gotten sick yet. For another I, observe stuff for as long as I want without being tugged in any direction whatever.
There were these guys in the train. They're both from Nancy. Well, actually, the guitarist is from Marseilles but he's living in Nancy. They decided to sit in the part of the train where the luggage goes and get in a little impromptu jam. The percussionist had this drum... thing... that's a lot like a box or a stool than a drum but louder than a stool. He said that it's Spanish and it's called a Cajole or something. But the noise of the train couldn't really drown out his percussion and the other passengers eventually plucked up the nerve to tell them to cut it out. At that point, the guitarist put away his guitar too but I know for a fact that no one could hear him in the next compartment. They got shut down, but not before I got to listen to them a little and talk about stuff. The percussionist didn't really impress me that much, but then again, percussionists never do, at least not as musicians. I've always seen them as a necessary evil and the member of any band that contributes good natured immaturity but rarely any real talent. Think Ringo Starr - classic drummer man. Of these two, the drummer was actually the friendlier, I attribute that to the fact that his roots are Lorraine. I'm beginning to think I'm an adopted "Lorrain" myself.
I'm getting off topic: The guitarist could really shred. I was immediately jealous. He wasn't a 'one-track' guitarist either although I could tell he had a penchant for Funk and Reggae.
I couldn't inconspicuously watch and listen to them so, at some point we had a conversation. It was all in code, but being that I am charitable, I'll translate; from French, to English, to code:
Drummer: Are you a musician? What he meant: Dude, you're old, you can't really like this racket.
Me: I play the guitar but I suck. What I meant: Dude, I wish I was young and stupid again with nothing better to do than play my guitar on a train to Paris so that we could hang out together.
Drummer: That's cool. What he meant: You might be okay then, but I doubt we could ever be seen together in public.
He eventually asked me if I was English (my accent) and when he learned that I'm from California, he was a lot more interested in talking about California than music.
Then I complimented the guitarist and remarked some unusual aspects of his style. We had a discussion about what I do and what they do and basically learned some stuff about each other. They were actually good guys. The drummer even remarked, after I took his picture, that he needed to cut his hair (signs of sub-conscious guilt for cultivating a look that doesn't really reflect the person inside). I told him to enjoy it while he can; he'll probably have to end up looking respectable sooner than he knows. They remind me of me before responsibilities made me what I am except the guitarist was honestly pretty good. He's more devoted to music than I was at his age; I hope he makes it in music if it's what he wants to do. As I get older, do feel sad that devoted and talented musicians can't survive doing what they love. I mean, people like me who lack focus deserve to end up in mundane jobs. My diversity is what prevents me from earning minimum wage while also preventing me from specializing enough to ever be excellent at anything. That's why I think it's sad when someone who knows what he wants to do and can't do anything else ends up earning minimum wage in a record shop or something. I guess there's nothing new under the sun.
If nothing else, they made about an hour of my train trip that much shorter. Sure beats driving - sure does.