prayers and thoughts
God, you are that friend who secretly picks up the tab for the whole party.
And it gives you joy to say to all of us: Don’t worry about it; it’s on me.
And some thoughts on music: New Orleans Style
There’s nothing like a person pouring their heart and soul into the keys of a piano—
especially that one young man, that one brilliant night.
“I’m going to play you some New Orleans style blues,” he said with that charming, shy drawl, a hint of a mischievous smile and a glance out from under those long eyelashes toward the rapt audience.
What it sounded like to me was sort of strange: Like ink running right out of a pen and onto the page in that scratching way. But I happen to think that sound is a comfort and a satisfaction. It means you are coming to terms.
Or maybe to you, it sounded like a warm meal on a rainy winter night: fork scraping plate, the smell of garlic and herbs, the glass of red wine for health.
Somehow, that night, in that snug room, what came out of that young man was just Soul Food: satiation, warmth, joy. It rambled raucously, trembled on that top end—the right hand repeatedly teasing out a flirty taunt that waited impatiently for a response.
There’s no telling what people are going to hear when someone really plays from their heart. It had the character that reminded many of us of the angels doing that famous number (you couldn’t miss them--these are the ones with their eyes closed, nodding their heads from side to side, looking a little eccentric and sensitive)—the one they played when God made everything. Let’s assume he made them first so that he could have some accompaniment for separating light from darkness, and just the right cadences for molding a giraffe, and designing the veins on each leaf that would ever grow, and even planning all of the particulars for that young man to play us a song so reminiscent of our lost home, of Eden. Well. I haven’t exactly heard that specific number yet—just hints here and there—but they say that when you hear it, you just know, and there’s nothing quite like it.
And it gives you joy to say to all of us: Don’t worry about it; it’s on me.
And some thoughts on music: New Orleans Style
There’s nothing like a person pouring their heart and soul into the keys of a piano—
especially that one young man, that one brilliant night.
“I’m going to play you some New Orleans style blues,” he said with that charming, shy drawl, a hint of a mischievous smile and a glance out from under those long eyelashes toward the rapt audience.
What it sounded like to me was sort of strange: Like ink running right out of a pen and onto the page in that scratching way. But I happen to think that sound is a comfort and a satisfaction. It means you are coming to terms.
Or maybe to you, it sounded like a warm meal on a rainy winter night: fork scraping plate, the smell of garlic and herbs, the glass of red wine for health.
Somehow, that night, in that snug room, what came out of that young man was just Soul Food: satiation, warmth, joy. It rambled raucously, trembled on that top end—the right hand repeatedly teasing out a flirty taunt that waited impatiently for a response.
There’s no telling what people are going to hear when someone really plays from their heart. It had the character that reminded many of us of the angels doing that famous number (you couldn’t miss them--these are the ones with their eyes closed, nodding their heads from side to side, looking a little eccentric and sensitive)—the one they played when God made everything. Let’s assume he made them first so that he could have some accompaniment for separating light from darkness, and just the right cadences for molding a giraffe, and designing the veins on each leaf that would ever grow, and even planning all of the particulars for that young man to play us a song so reminiscent of our lost home, of Eden. Well. I haven’t exactly heard that specific number yet—just hints here and there—but they say that when you hear it, you just know, and there’s nothing quite like it.
posted by angela at 10:49 AM
6 Comments:
RIGHT ON!
Your writing is delicious!
You're mom is correct.
I meant to say "your" mom is correct:)
Gorgeously written Ange.
P.S. I've given up on Mondays. I think once dance class is over I'll be back! So rats to that!
Heidi V.
ange, you've been doing some fabulous writing lately. whatever it is inspiring you, keep it up! i'm enjoying it thoroughly
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