The Busker
A bronzed pool of lamplight
Sirens blow by
A young man on the street corner
Giving all he's got
To whoever will hear
His story as best he recollects
His father was there
and then he was gone
This too shall pass.
His bike got stole
His job got sold
His shoes got holes
Water in a bowl
This too shall pass.
So he's facing the night
does what he knows to remind
Nothing changes but the leaves
Nothing returns but the tide
After the night, after his shoes
After the father, After the light
After the bugs
After the blues
This too shall pass.
By slowly or by brief
This too shall pass.
Showing posts with label adventure. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adventure. Show all posts
August 9, 2010
May 8, 2010
Non-Sequitorial
I'm having a glorious time here.
I'm in one of those lately rare places where I can step outside of everything with which I'm unsatisfied and see that, in the scope of things, I'm having quite an amazing time here.
We made it through our first year, and it was a da-hoozy of a year, which it would have been had we not moved to New York. But, upon passing this first year mark: I have taken my drum to the street, my first gigging band played its 6th gig together, my incredible girlfriend, Candice Chetta has embraced and raised up burgeoning artists and has shown her own art in Brooklyn.
Sure, I'm not behind a bar yet. Sure I don't have my absolute ideal cymbals for the drum kit. Sure, it's about to get hot, humid, and muggy (probably record-settingly high levels of each). Sure, there's bombs misfiring, or whatever down the street from my work a massive depression on the horizon. I sound like my father.
But none of that stuff really matters because it'll all be fixed eventually. With patience, faith, luck, and foolhardiness, everything will be solved if you keep your compass trained on what it is you want and let it wander when you aren't sure.
I apparently didn't really pick up my father's pessimism. And between Coelho's absolute faith in trusting your "Personal Legend," Rilke's assurance that "being an artists does not mean counting in numbers and years, but ripening like a tree, who stands confidently through the storms of winter that spring will come," and Lennon's "there's nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time," I'm feeling pretty positive about eventually discovering what I'm meant to be doing here. Maybe it's just learning how to search.
Tomorrow is my day off. I am going to sleep like a log baby tonight. To Brooklyn.
I'm in one of those lately rare places where I can step outside of everything with which I'm unsatisfied and see that, in the scope of things, I'm having quite an amazing time here.
We made it through our first year, and it was a da-hoozy of a year, which it would have been had we not moved to New York. But, upon passing this first year mark: I have taken my drum to the street, my first gigging band played its 6th gig together, my incredible girlfriend, Candice Chetta has embraced and raised up burgeoning artists and has shown her own art in Brooklyn.
Sure, I'm not behind a bar yet. Sure I don't have my absolute ideal cymbals for the drum kit. Sure, it's about to get hot, humid, and muggy (probably record-settingly high levels of each). Sure, there's bombs misfiring, or whatever down the street from my work a massive depression on the horizon. I sound like my father.
But none of that stuff really matters because it'll all be fixed eventually. With patience, faith, luck, and foolhardiness, everything will be solved if you keep your compass trained on what it is you want and let it wander when you aren't sure.
I apparently didn't really pick up my father's pessimism. And between Coelho's absolute faith in trusting your "Personal Legend," Rilke's assurance that "being an artists does not mean counting in numbers and years, but ripening like a tree, who stands confidently through the storms of winter that spring will come," and Lennon's "there's nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time," I'm feeling pretty positive about eventually discovering what I'm meant to be doing here. Maybe it's just learning how to search.
Tomorrow is my day off. I am going to sleep like a log baby tonight. To Brooklyn.
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