good morning ~

(click the link / view of Ghent to listen)

My Big Breakfinally a day that was both free and good

today’s track involved building a sequence on a synthesizer, playing it through a little practice amp, then swinging a dangling microphone over it, kind of like a reverse leslie speaker

the StretchMetal yearend fundraiser continues and there’s still a long way to go - - if you are into contemplative spaces, thoughtful sounds, and imagining a more mindful music alternative, you should get involved and regardless you should throw some money at ‘em

for Hudson Valley folks, I’ve just started helping out a little bit at the newly renovated and reopened Community movie theater in Catskill and tomorrow we’re doing a special screening of utter tearjerker It’s a Wonderful Life - free milk and cookies plus if you bring something to donate to the Catskill Food Pantry you can get a discounted ticket. Will be very sweet!

A day off in Belgium, not something I expected. But install had gone smoothly - nothing pressing that day - and the internet wasn't even really usable in our hotel so what work could I even do? So we took an early train to Ghent. Which is funny because a few years ago Gracelee had a show in Vienna and we took a day off then to walk around Prague, left on an early train. It's almost like if we want to actually relax a little bit we have to put at least 20 miles between us and our tools and obligations. We had no particular plan or compelling reason to go to Ghent. Really we just saw that our friend's insanely detailed recommendation map of Paris listed a few places there, so maybe the food would bang. Started off the way any great day of mine begins - we arbitrarily picked a coffee place and walked towards it hand in hand, noticing things. Then we saw some churches we wanted to check out, majesty and awe. I later learned that we were maybe 10 feet and 15 Euro away from one of our friend's favorite ever paintings, a Jan van Eyck. Although it was being restored and large sections of the painting had been temporarily replaced by prints, so was it even the painting? We heard bells in the central square and followed the sound to a carillon museum, exactly the type of wonderful situation you hope for when you start walking around aimlessly. We saw the machinery, we saw it click loudly into action, we saw it spin as the bells clanged and rang out at behest of the pegs in the drum of the contraption. From the balcony on the way down we could see the whole city in four directions, infinite bikes on the roadways, the Belgian countryside spilling out beyond. Our long circle back to the station continued and in the last moments of sunlight we nuzzled in on the train, finally a day that was both free and good.

I had ten minutes to get from Copenhagen's terminal A to deep in terminal C, a route which presumably included passport control. It was at least a quarter mile between my gates if not further plus I had with me a big orange backpack, not optimized for running. I asked, no motorized escort available, if I was going to make it I was going to have to sprint. Not that it mattered all that much ultimately - if I couldn't make my flight to New Jersey then they'd simply put me on a later flight to Chicago, then route me to New Jersey, which I think added maybe six hours of travel to my already pretty long day. An annoying but not horribly disruptive consequence. I mean, there was really no way I was going to make it, I see that now. I also knew it then, the truth of it was obvious - that plane would leave without me whether or not I exhausted myself trying to get it. But that little glimmer of possibility called out to me. I like to feel that I'm bolder and more willing to put it on the line than other people - I can deal with discomfort, I can make do with less, I can endure, even enjoy the trouble. And in this way I am special. So I ran as hard as my legs and baggage would allow, bobbing and weaving through unflappable Europeans, pulling my pants up with one hand while clutching my tote bag under my other elbow. They let me skip the tremendous queue at passport control and I panted through my conversation with the lady in the booth, then I was off with a stamp, more sprinting. And obviously - of course, inherently - by the time I got to the gate boarding had completed. Missed it, stood gasping with my phone in my hand waiting for my automatically updated itinerary to pop up. But I was close. I could actually see the plane still waiting to taxi. So the question is, was it worth it to run?

I think about circumstances conspiring a lot. They're obviously in coordination, but to what end? What do the circumstances get out of it when things line up so beautifully? First circumstance, my friend's new band had a show in Queens on Monday night. He texted me about it asking if I would come "open up the pit" which was "a joke" but was also "a truth" about how he'd like me to be there. Second circumstance, my other friend who just moved to Queens came up for the weekend for sculpture activities and a Friendsgiving hang would be driving to Queens and arriving at exactly the time I would need to get there. Third circumstance, a job that I was maybe supposed to have started already stalled out a little in getting me the necessary paperwork, so I had two whole days free from any particular obligation. Fourth circumstance, an Amtrak ticket back from the city at a convenient time was improbably cheap and available. Fifth circumstance, it snowed enough to cancel the gig I had booked for Tuesday night but not enough to stop the trains from running. Sixth circumstance, my friend really tuckered herself out pouring concrete in our friend yard and needed a decent car nap, probably best that I drove anyway. At a certain point it felt like I would have to expel more effort to stay home, it felt like a certain amount of pressure had built up behind me on the waterslide, whoosh, here I go. My friend's band sounded good and loud and true. I bullshitted with buddies and acquaintances in a room where I have been doing that for fifteen years. We went and got pizza and I slept on my friend's couch. In the morning she gave me a cup of coffee and cookies from her landlord, I listened to the radiator burble.

But what about you? Are you running for it? How many miles do you have to travel in order to relax a little bit? What are your circumstances trying to get out of you?