Blog-azic

Marsh Fern. The New York woods, upstate, are crannied, rocky and moist (in spite of an early summer drought). They abound with tumbled boulders, beech and oak, fen and fern, and I was downright taken aback, when I first ran through the old trees, the air buzzing with mosquitoes, through the lush shrub layer (witch hazel, jack-in-the-pulpit, wild ginger, blood root), to see the fern bounty. The community of ferns is lush and abundant. Christmas fern dots the wood edges, where the path runs straight under sweeping hemlock boughs. Where the path switches back and slowly climbs a hill, maiden-hair fern stands most delicate. In dappled sun of a wooded fen, marsh fern bursts from the muck. Sensitive fern parallels the Amtrak rails, where I sat one hot afternoon and keyed-out bracken fern, its leaf three feet across (its rhizome buried deep below the ground - impervious to the drought), and was awoken from my deep concentration by the loud whistle of a commuter train! My heart was poundi

Near Times Square. In this past week, I've spent more time in the Big Apple than I have in the last five years. First, I met Susan, her sister and brother-in-law (almost, if domestic partners count as in-laws) near Penn Station after a train ride from Saratoga. We spent the weekend riding bikes through lower Manhattan, on the East River Ferry, and bar hopping at night. I heard a blues band playing a warehouse show. I was surrounded by hipsters, bikers and erotic dancers, and when they started playing an electric "Cross Roads" I couldn't help but tap out that off-beat. Then, today and yesterday, I made a stop to support a couple of hotels that were just brought online this past week. I worked like a fury, buzzed like a beehive, and still found time to hit Times Square at night, snap some pics, and get service by one of the best bartenders I've ever met. A burly man, from Ireland, who insisted on giving me a complimentary "splash of beer" to wash do

A warm rainy day is all the company I require. It's an old friend, a warm blanket. "Reminds me of Ohio," I am fond of saying. So, I'll take a rainy day as a good omen to start my little adventure to New York city. The man at the Amtrak counter informed us - we, the passengers - that the train would be late to Saratoga "because of customs and immigration at the border." Of corse, I thought. I knew the trains ran late but couldn't imagine why. In fact, the train comes from Canada, snaking through the swampy Adirondacks - hills, mountains inundated with marsh fern and mosquitos; woods that whisper old words; ash, beech, oak, and gnarly sugar maples. Where I come from, cotton woods are king. Where I live, oaks are regal and massive. Where I am, sugar maples are healthy and refined, old and quite impressive. Today, it's the train to the city. I feel like I'm sneaking away from work at three in the afternoon, when in fact I have ea

Next to him, I feel soooo unfocussed. Writing about music today, and wine tomorrow, flowers one day and letters the next. Ah, well. I tell myself it's not about continuity, or a following. This is my journal - a living document, private yet public, a record ad infinitum. Or, sometimes ad nauseum. Check out this Blog::::::::: http://saratogawoodswaters.blogspot.com/

It's been a while since I've written. I've got about 3 or 4 half finished posts. So, I wanted to get something up today.  This song by Brian Eno  struck me when I listened to it yesterday morning. Ambient music like this is exactly what I've been trying to create lately. You can hear it in my guitar playing: do-re-me-sol-la-do! A pentatonic scale has the sense of space and ambiguity that appeals to my ear. I find such pleasure in the call of a wood thrush deep in a lush forest; the sigh of a cotton wood in a warm breeze; the wash of white noise as I nod off to sleep. Music to me is more than just the aural quality. It also encompasses space and time. When I think about music, I step back and look at the place, I think of quality of space. Music should be a bit disarming, disorienting to follow too closely. I want to create something that you fall into. Undo the sense of beat in time. Let it wash out your mind.  Anyways, here is a piece I made a few months