The world is too much with us, late and soon
I recall having premonitions about figures like the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus at around the age of four. The suspicions began when I was informed that the cost of an item should hold some bearing over whether or not Santa was capable of bringing it. I never asked for much, see - at around age eleven my family stopped asking me what I want for Christmas because they know I won’t be able to think of anything - so when I came up with one thing that I wanted for Christmas of my own volition, that is to say, my parents had not encouraged me to want it, as was generally the case, I was astonished to find that it might be too expensive for Santa to bring. I suspected foul play. Didn’t this imply that Santa was a greedy despot who only brought to a family as much as they were able to pay him? What other explanation could there be for the rich children receiving more than the poor children?
As I discovered that this applied not only to Christmas, but to all the holidays as well, I grew suspicious of these legends’ existence. And now, well, I’ve stated where I stand: I believe in nothing. Hedonism, or a form of it, has been suggested me, though I doubt I could ever do that, as I have difficulty convincing myself I deserve anything. If I ever follow anything again, chances are it shall be Buddhism: it’s always intrigued me, and I used to meditate with moderate frequency. I think that, upon graduating from college, I shall take a boat to India and join a Buddhist monastery. At least, that’s the plan for the moment. I have learned all to well never to commit to a plan.
My family and I attended church today at St. Thomas the Apostle here in Tucson, a church only a year older than myself. Apparently there is a woman who runs everything at that church from behind the scenes - affectionately known as ‘Charlie’, with the three priests as her ‘angels’. The priests appeared to be all about the same age, with well-tended white hair and a good sense of humour. And if you ask any of them for anything, the typical response is to ask Eileen - a.k.a. Charlie. I think if all the Catholics I had ever known were more like these priests, though, I might still have my faith.
I tend to never do much of anything while on vacation, I’ve found. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.
Actually, that’s not entirely true. In the absence of much to do, and in the presence of a beautiful electric piano, I have played the piano for much of my vacation, and finished a song I started a few months ago.
Cassie: The piano belonged to a man whose wife must have been mad at him I guess, because she took an axe and hit it - can you see it, right there?
Vince: Oh, yes. Wow. That was an axe? She mustn’t have been very strong.
Cassie: I guess it was a lot worse, but they had it repaired. And then they divorced and neither one really wanted the piano, so they sold it to us at a rather low price.
This being shortly after I arrived, I quickly sat down and tried a new song fragment I had tossed together while on the plane ride there.
Cassie: Moose, you can stay here as long as you want.
Moose: What’s that?
Cassie: You play some nice background music.
Tim: But if you’re going to play, you have to turn it up. We want to hear you.
The Friday Morning Jazz Band having recently began rehearsing once more, my piano playing was not in a complete state of disrepair, and I didn’t mind playing more loudly nearly so much as I might have had my skills been more rusty.
Uncle Tim, it seems, has a very similar taste in music to me. We both, for one, are large advocates of Steely Dan. As such, he has introduced me to a few musicians I had not heard of before that match my interests by virtue of matching his. The music listed on this entry and the last are examples of such musicians.
I think I am lost, and I need to pick a direction. And I need very much for it to be the right direction. I think I’m walking in circles. Haven’t I said all these words before?
As I discovered that this applied not only to Christmas, but to all the holidays as well, I grew suspicious of these legends’ existence. And now, well, I’ve stated where I stand: I believe in nothing. Hedonism, or a form of it, has been suggested me, though I doubt I could ever do that, as I have difficulty convincing myself I deserve anything. If I ever follow anything again, chances are it shall be Buddhism: it’s always intrigued me, and I used to meditate with moderate frequency. I think that, upon graduating from college, I shall take a boat to India and join a Buddhist monastery. At least, that’s the plan for the moment. I have learned all to well never to commit to a plan.
My family and I attended church today at St. Thomas the Apostle here in Tucson, a church only a year older than myself. Apparently there is a woman who runs everything at that church from behind the scenes - affectionately known as ‘Charlie’, with the three priests as her ‘angels’. The priests appeared to be all about the same age, with well-tended white hair and a good sense of humour. And if you ask any of them for anything, the typical response is to ask Eileen - a.k.a. Charlie. I think if all the Catholics I had ever known were more like these priests, though, I might still have my faith.
I tend to never do much of anything while on vacation, I’ve found. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.
Actually, that’s not entirely true. In the absence of much to do, and in the presence of a beautiful electric piano, I have played the piano for much of my vacation, and finished a song I started a few months ago.
Cassie: The piano belonged to a man whose wife must have been mad at him I guess, because she took an axe and hit it - can you see it, right there?
Vince: Oh, yes. Wow. That was an axe? She mustn’t have been very strong.
Cassie: I guess it was a lot worse, but they had it repaired. And then they divorced and neither one really wanted the piano, so they sold it to us at a rather low price.
This being shortly after I arrived, I quickly sat down and tried a new song fragment I had tossed together while on the plane ride there.
Cassie: Moose, you can stay here as long as you want.
Moose: What’s that?
Cassie: You play some nice background music.
Tim: But if you’re going to play, you have to turn it up. We want to hear you.
The Friday Morning Jazz Band having recently began rehearsing once more, my piano playing was not in a complete state of disrepair, and I didn’t mind playing more loudly nearly so much as I might have had my skills been more rusty.
Uncle Tim, it seems, has a very similar taste in music to me. We both, for one, are large advocates of Steely Dan. As such, he has introduced me to a few musicians I had not heard of before that match my interests by virtue of matching his. The music listed on this entry and the last are examples of such musicians.
I think I am lost, and I need to pick a direction. And I need very much for it to be the right direction. I think I’m walking in circles. Haven’t I said all these words before?