Tuesday, April 1
Monday, March 31
Sunday, March 30
Thursday, March 27
Wednesday, March 26
Monday, March 24
Friday: Serendipity Strikes Again
Thursday, March 20
Wednesday, March 19
Break of Reality - More of the Story
I keep getting the question: "Who are these Break of Reality folks anyway???"
I'm so glad you asked!
Particularly as I've been meaning to put up their details.
www.breakofreality.com
myspace.com/breakofreality
I first came across this band in the Times Square Subway Station. Like many commuters, I was transfixed by the amazing group of 3 cellos and a percussionist.
They bill as "Heavy Cello Thunder", but I really dug this description from the art critic at the Sacramento Bee:
"The cello rock band Break of Reality has serious street cred in two musical arenas -- speed metal and classical music."
Ah - what an endorsement! Come on, does it really get any better than that?!
Honestly, these kids came out of Eastmon School of Music and are great musicians, talented composers, and have dedicated a considerable amount of time in touring schools - most notably a 3 week tour of Texas - to encourage kids to explore their creativity in music and continue to challenge the idea that classical instruments are only for stuffy old compositions.
If you haven't done so yet, take a few minutes to check out their website. You can hear several tracks playing as you read up on who these folks are. Be a fan now; when they really hit it big you can say you knew them when.
Tuesday, March 18
World Dream Spotted On Subway
Monday, March 17
Sunday, March 16
Friday, March 14
Thursday, March 13
Tuesday, March 11
Monday, March 10
Sunday, March 9
Friday, March 7
Thursday, March 6
Wednesday, March 5
Tuesday, March 4
Monday, March 3
Sunday, March 2
Saturday, March 1
Friday, February 29
There are a Million Stories in the Big Apple: This One is about a Cigarette.
I turned, walking past several other commuters satisfying the same desire, and stood looking in the windows of a designer store. I took in the clean lines of simple yet elegantly designed clothing.
By contrast the kid standing next to me was in cargo pants and a flack jacket over a beat up sweatshirt. Shaggy from sandy blonde head to sneakered toes.
He turned and apologetically asked to bum a smoke.
I obliged, commenting that no thanks were needed as I believe in Smokers' Karma. And besides, my ultra light brand not being preferred by any guy, I knew he must be desperate.
At least, he smiled, they aren't menthols.
We inhaled, exhaled and looked around at the Friday evening traffic for something to say.
Did I mind his asking if I was a college student?
My turn to smile. Thanking him, I allowed as how I was not. By a long shot.
Inhale. Exhale.
He explained that I didn't seem cold or heartless, and in his experience in this City that meant I had to be either in college or born and bred elsewhere.
Which I was of course, and told him so.
And where was it he went to school?
Manhattan College, located ironically in the Bronx. Close, but not quite what he'd hoped for from the name. Good engineering program - not that he was in it.
Quite the opposite, in fact. Philosophy/Sociology major. Math not really being his thing.
Between the glasses and the theory I should have guessed Philosophy.
I felt in my coat pocket for my cigarettes. Removing my lighter I confirmed there was still one cig left in the pack.
I was saying how I'd considered Sociology, but ended up an Art major instead. Which was why I now worked in an office.
He'd been in the middle of saying that was cool when my smirk interrupted him. We both laughed.
Inhale. Exhale.
I took my last drag, dropped the butt and watched my foot grind it out. I reached back into my pocket as I stepped to the right towards the door, passing in front of him.
He looked down at it as I handed the cigarette pack to him, saying that there was only one left, but as I had a carton at home...
He looked up. Looked me straight in the eye. Looked at me in utter astonishment.
That, he all but whispered, is a truly generous thing.
Happy Friday, I said, now unable to stop smiling. I hoped he'd have a really lovely weekend.
About a yard away, walking sideways now. He'd gone back to looking at the pack in his hand, but realizing I'd kept walking his head snapped up.
Hope yours is great too. Right in the eyes again.
Nodding thanks, I turned and headed towards the doors.
Neither of us had asked the other's name.
The entire exchange lasted perhaps 7 minutes.
But I walked away with a genuine smile and a warmth in my heart.
Seven minutes. A single cigarette.
A small act - a small generosity - a small wonder.
A moment.
A memory.
Note of Apology
Due to "Site Maintenance" I was unable to send posts yesterday.
Below are yesterday's Viewpoints.
Tuesday, February 26
Monday, February 25
Sleepless
Why is it that when I most need sleep my mind races like a wild colt?
What dreams are lost searching the dark?
Sunday, February 24
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