the sound of the day happening when no sounds are emitting
I spent yesterday flying to Austin for afternoon court hearings. Quick hearing travel days have their own programmatic structure. The prelude involves a quick drive to the office. Then there there is the raga of the drive to Love Field. The quick sandwich waiting for the plane is like a solo by a kind of odd bassoon-like thing that makes an interesting and not always famliar but not particularly noteworthy sound. The flight itself is an hour of intense sitar music--the kind of fast classical sitar music that makes you wonder if the future of rock doesn't lie in a different subcontinent, three thousand years ago. The long cab ride to a friendly office switches one to a slow, traditional jazz song, with muted trumpets and a boom, boom, boom beat. The walk through the rain reminds one vaguely of a piccolo. Three hours of court hearings are blissful ambient music, filled with wonderful sounds, spaces and silences. The ride back to the airport, in a solid Mustang, has the feel of a great Springsteen song, which counterpoints nicely with the George Harrson sitar-laced feel of the flight home. Vietnamese music highlights the pho dinner on the drive home--not the "american idol" pop music actually playing at the restaurant, but instead something really fun involving moon lutes and differently tuned chromatics.
My home is like arriving in a Penguin Cafe Orchestra song, filled with pop, jazz and eccentrica finesse, except that my dogs provide excellent vocals. All in all, a day without such metaphoric music is like a day without orange juice--permissible, but just a little less sweet.
I am filled with new plans and schemes, which I intend to add to my "to do" list, as my daydreams begin to crystallize into a business model for a hobby/business. Meanwhile, my youtbue called "plant invaders" has begun to gain "view" momentum, thanks to a note to the Invasive Plants discussion group.
But now it is time to don a pin-striped suit once more, and go sing.