I'm partaking in the sacred act of Decompression.
My first job was in a coffee shop. At 15 1/2 I learned I couldn't come home from a high-energy, activity-filled job and fall to sleep immediately, no matter how hard I tried.
I am now returned home from a coffee shop shift, laundry day, musical brainstorming session, and rehearsal for an upcoming show with a band I'd never played with before. I know that's not the hardest day had by anyone but my brain is drained, nonetheless.
Yet I couldn't fall asleep if I wanted.
Processing the events of the night, riding the very end of that buzz, I sit on the couch fresh from a shower, listening to the world shimmy and shake outside my window. A rough night is behind me - it did not go as smoothly as I had hoped it would, but I'm usually put out when things don't go just so, which in some instances (such as playing new tunes with a new band) is just not conceivable.
So suck it up suck it up and move on. You have to have the rough times to appreciate the good ones. Don't let turkeys bring you down, build a bridge and keep on truckin'. In a word, hang in there, and other assorted positive affirmations as well!
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
January 14, 2011
January 2, 2011
Happy New Years, you Millennium Tween, you.
Boy, Vincent D'Onofrio sure does look like Vince Vaughn. That's confusing. Sorry, Criminal Intent is on.
Hey, it's the New Year! Go Gregorian Number Change! Time for new beginnings and projects! And I'm feeling it this year.
In the pipeline:
A very talented group of guys with which to play music. I spent the five-hour flights to and from California building a playlist of music that originally inspired me to play music, music that I actively practice to, and music that represents a sound I would be proud to make. I am constraining myself to one song per band, straining my active listening skills for the aspects that speak to me.
The guys and I are planning a listening party to share our respective mix CDs, just like the old days. I remember my mother (sorry, Mom) telling me stories about she and her friends getting together to sit around to listen to the newly dropped White Album as a shared experience. I suppose the "sharing" of music, facilitated by the intarwebz has become an easier, but isolated experience. Bringin' it back.
Also brought back has been my interest in the piano. Lucky enough to have an upright piano in my childhood house, I can remember plinking along, about seven or eight years old, mystified that certain combinatons of keys just sounded better.
At this past trip to California I looked through my brother's Complete Beatles Songbook, calling on dusty music theory and logic to slowly piece together "Oh Darling!" and "Let It Be", run scales and attempt to coordinate my fingers (I'm in fact typing like Mavis Beacon taught me. Again with the back-bringing). So I'm Looking for an ivory tickler who would trade piano lessons for drum lessons. If you know anybody, pass it on. Theenks.
In the present:
Call me a sucker, I can't help make a resolution for the New Year. I know, I know, the true meaning of the New Year has been marred by the resolutionifying of the season - thanks, big Greeting Cards - but whataya gon'do?
I'm staring inefficient time management, one of my nagging weaknesses down the barrel, and I want it "taken
care of", if you know what I mean. My work schedule for now allows for an early rise and early nights except for possible shows, so I'm shooting for a blog per day, practice at least five days per week, eventually three meetings with The Guys per week.
So them's the plans for the next few. As for everything else:
The kitties are great, as can be seen on display and for sale at Candice Chetta's Etsy:
Hey, it's the New Year! Go Gregorian Number Change! Time for new beginnings and projects! And I'm feeling it this year.
In the pipeline:
A very talented group of guys with which to play music. I spent the five-hour flights to and from California building a playlist of music that originally inspired me to play music, music that I actively practice to, and music that represents a sound I would be proud to make. I am constraining myself to one song per band, straining my active listening skills for the aspects that speak to me.
The guys and I are planning a listening party to share our respective mix CDs, just like the old days. I remember my mother (sorry, Mom) telling me stories about she and her friends getting together to sit around to listen to the newly dropped White Album as a shared experience. I suppose the "sharing" of music, facilitated by the intarwebz has become an easier, but isolated experience. Bringin' it back.
Also brought back has been my interest in the piano. Lucky enough to have an upright piano in my childhood house, I can remember plinking along, about seven or eight years old, mystified that certain combinatons of keys just sounded better.
At this past trip to California I looked through my brother's Complete Beatles Songbook, calling on dusty music theory and logic to slowly piece together "Oh Darling!" and "Let It Be", run scales and attempt to coordinate my fingers (I'm in fact typing like Mavis Beacon taught me. Again with the back-bringing). So I'm Looking for an ivory tickler who would trade piano lessons for drum lessons. If you know anybody, pass it on. Theenks.
In the present:
Call me a sucker, I can't help make a resolution for the New Year. I know, I know, the true meaning of the New Year has been marred by the resolutionifying of the season - thanks, big Greeting Cards - but whataya gon'do?
I'm staring inefficient time management, one of my nagging weaknesses down the barrel, and I want it "taken
care of", if you know what I mean. My work schedule for now allows for an early rise and early nights except for possible shows, so I'm shooting for a blog per day, practice at least five days per week, eventually three meetings with The Guys per week.
So them's the plans for the next few. As for everything else:
The kitties are great, as can be seen on display and for sale at Candice Chetta's Etsy:
 |
| Lokian Judas |
 |
| Curious Benny |
Also seen at The Candice Chetta is the growing "Chakra" series:
 |
| Grounded |
 |
| Embraced Sensuality |
Currently raising the property value of our walls - until they sell, that is - this beautiful series has been Chetta's work since the layoff, which I'm counting as a blessing in disguise. I am very proud of all the hard work and long hours my lady has been putting in, in spite of the emotional tumult of losing a job that caused so much emotional tumult.
Life has happened hard this past year. We've survived so far and I'm ready to get my hands on the wheel and push the gas down. I just hope the same for everybody else.
December 8, 2010
"It's astounding that given some of life's luxuries, you can put up with a lack of its necessities."
Update:
Following a period of mourning from leaving Kill The Huxter for over a year, I have thrown myself back into music. Conrad Sanguinetti, Rocco Malozzi and Nate Morgan were awesome dudes to make music with, and only reinforced my notion that in the East I find the nicest, most welcoming friends I could imagine.
But, it's time to utilize the hibernational properties of wintertime to gather my energies together to grow my palette of musical tools, in theory to be unleashed when Spring arrives.
Practice continues on pillows and pads, at least once a day - Either along with Pandora Radio or a metronome . The giving of lessons has begun - a little extra cash on the side and a great new way to hone my own skills. This coming Monday I am planning on being part of the house band for Steve "Sweets" Carr's first Breukelen Jest Comedy Show at Breukelen Coffee House along with Max Rose, multi-talented illustrator/ivory tickler.
I have barely started to play music with some incredibly talented and driven folks from the neighborhood, and I am incredibly excited for the soon-tapped wealth of talent within a two block radius of my apartment. More and more I find one rarely has to leave one's microneighborhood if one were so inclined.
Between the above projects, practice, and blogging in an attempt to cast a sizable mark during my brief passing through this point in time. Extra-strength deep, man.
It is the last night of Channukah, and though I don't necessarily consider myself Jewish (and neither do the Jews, I'm told), but I am Jew-ish with the worry and the guilt and the glayven. I'm approaching the one year anniversary of my father's passing, and I'm using the legend of the burning oil as an analogue for the fire that burns in everybody, and that it can burn longer and brighter than I would ever imagine, and faith is its fuel.
We don't have much disposable income at the moment - After three of four jobs evaporated from under our feet, we find ourselves surprisingly able to make ends meet and any extra money is reinvested in our respective arts. As you can see on the always honest Candice Chetta's corner of the internet, selling paintings , prints and Vintage eye wear on Etsy is allowing us a bit of extra funds, but mostly we reinvest directly into our respective arts. Candice is out of canvas and I am afraid she might start painting on the cats as they slink by. It is a real fear.
I guess what I'm trying to say is
Stay tuned for the further adventures of Broccoli and Chetta. My blog is linked to Facebook to Twitter to Reverbnation to Linkdin to the Skynet Mainframe. Look forward to hearing lots more from me as I assault the internet cloud. Pray for rain.
Following a period of mourning from leaving Kill The Huxter for over a year, I have thrown myself back into music. Conrad Sanguinetti, Rocco Malozzi and Nate Morgan were awesome dudes to make music with, and only reinforced my notion that in the East I find the nicest, most welcoming friends I could imagine.
But, it's time to utilize the hibernational properties of wintertime to gather my energies together to grow my palette of musical tools, in theory to be unleashed when Spring arrives.
Practice continues on pillows and pads, at least once a day - Either along with Pandora Radio or a metronome . The giving of lessons has begun - a little extra cash on the side and a great new way to hone my own skills. This coming Monday I am planning on being part of the house band for Steve "Sweets" Carr's first Breukelen Jest Comedy Show at Breukelen Coffee House along with Max Rose, multi-talented illustrator/ivory tickler.
I have barely started to play music with some incredibly talented and driven folks from the neighborhood, and I am incredibly excited for the soon-tapped wealth of talent within a two block radius of my apartment. More and more I find one rarely has to leave one's microneighborhood if one were so inclined.
Between the above projects, practice, and blogging in an attempt to cast a sizable mark during my brief passing through this point in time. Extra-strength deep, man.
It is the last night of Channukah, and though I don't necessarily consider myself Jewish (and neither do the Jews, I'm told), but I am Jew-ish with the worry and the guilt and the glayven. I'm approaching the one year anniversary of my father's passing, and I'm using the legend of the burning oil as an analogue for the fire that burns in everybody, and that it can burn longer and brighter than I would ever imagine, and faith is its fuel.
We don't have much disposable income at the moment - After three of four jobs evaporated from under our feet, we find ourselves surprisingly able to make ends meet and any extra money is reinvested in our respective arts. As you can see on the always honest Candice Chetta's corner of the internet, selling paintings , prints and Vintage eye wear on Etsy is allowing us a bit of extra funds, but mostly we reinvest directly into our respective arts. Candice is out of canvas and I am afraid she might start painting on the cats as they slink by. It is a real fear.
I guess what I'm trying to say is
September 13, 2010
A little tip from the Pork Chop Express on a dark and stormy night..
I have been working my tuchus off these past couple weeks. Double after double after double. Waiting tables for 14 hour days at Becco, training at the Breukelen Coffee House, slogging through slow nights at Pop Art Bar. I haven't seen Chetta after sundown in two weeks. I tell myself I'm working so hard so we can get on top of expenses, no longer have to live paycheck to paycheck, and to hopefully eventually have free time available to make art for love (which may even attract money, meaning most time could be free time).
How does one stay sane with this back-to-back-to-back work lifestyle? When I find out, I'll let you know via tag you in a Facebook note. Until then, though, I revel in the few minutes I can find to engage in my passion: on my breaks between doubles (ranging from a half- to two hours), or on a sparsely peopled subway train or platform, I pull out my Andante practice pad and Vic Firth 5As (which I carry in my bag wherever I go) and tap away to anything with a steady beat - my ipod, car alarm, or the second hand of a public clock. Buying Stick Control For the Snare Drummer was probably one of the best decision I've ever made for music, and I've only progressed to halfway down the first half of the first page in the month I've owned it.
I combat my vague fear of pissing any surrounding people off with incessant tappa-tappa-tappa by playing controlled pianississimo paradiddles and double-stroke rolls, shifting sticking around (RLRR LRLL, RLLR LRRL, RRLR LLRL and RR LL RR LL, LR RL LR RL, respectively). I try to concentrate on how good playing makes me feel, to let it envelope me like an electric blanket (or a cool breeze, if it's a hot day). I realize that every worry drips away from me when muscle memory takes over and I can rest comfortably in the space between the beats of the simplest rhythm. I can't help but imagine a warm golden sunlight emanating from me, splashing invisible contentment on the walls of wherever I happen to be. And no matter how dark and dank my surroundings or my mood, I have a feeling the contentment remains when I leave, maybe for someone else to enjoy.
So I make the time. Even with my nonstop work schedule of late, I've found dependable pockets of time that I can spend doing what I love to do and, more importantly, getting noticeably better at what I love to do. Hopefully my talent will become valuable when paired with a good attitude, professionalism, well-placed contacts and a healthy dollop of luck. Speaking of which, anybody know anybody who knows anybody who is wanting for a professional, easy-going, well-adjusted, talented percussionist for whom no gig is to small? I might know a guy..
How does one stay sane with this back-to-back-to-back work lifestyle? When I find out, I'll let you know via tag you in a Facebook note. Until then, though, I revel in the few minutes I can find to engage in my passion: on my breaks between doubles (ranging from a half- to two hours), or on a sparsely peopled subway train or platform, I pull out my Andante practice pad and Vic Firth 5As (which I carry in my bag wherever I go) and tap away to anything with a steady beat - my ipod, car alarm, or the second hand of a public clock. Buying Stick Control For the Snare Drummer was probably one of the best decision I've ever made for music, and I've only progressed to halfway down the first half of the first page in the month I've owned it.
I combat my vague fear of pissing any surrounding people off with incessant tappa-tappa-tappa by playing controlled pianississimo paradiddles and double-stroke rolls, shifting sticking around (RLRR LRLL, RLLR LRRL, RRLR LLRL and RR LL RR LL, LR RL LR RL, respectively). I try to concentrate on how good playing makes me feel, to let it envelope me like an electric blanket (or a cool breeze, if it's a hot day). I realize that every worry drips away from me when muscle memory takes over and I can rest comfortably in the space between the beats of the simplest rhythm. I can't help but imagine a warm golden sunlight emanating from me, splashing invisible contentment on the walls of wherever I happen to be. And no matter how dark and dank my surroundings or my mood, I have a feeling the contentment remains when I leave, maybe for someone else to enjoy.
So I make the time. Even with my nonstop work schedule of late, I've found dependable pockets of time that I can spend doing what I love to do and, more importantly, getting noticeably better at what I love to do. Hopefully my talent will become valuable when paired with a good attitude, professionalism, well-placed contacts and a healthy dollop of luck. Speaking of which, anybody know anybody who knows anybody who is wanting for a professional, easy-going, well-adjusted, talented percussionist for whom no gig is to small? I might know a guy..
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