Currituck? Coinjock? Ocracoke. Hmmmm. Try my nuts. I got my crabs from Dirty Dicks.
I’m back, suckas.
Yes, I was gone for a week. If you recognize any of those names or phrases then you know from whence I have returned from. I just got back from Hatteras Island a few hours ago. Different world. Good times, though. It’s going to be very hard to go back to work tomorrow. Mercy.
I did a whole lot of nothing. Watched some Star Trek: TGN & DS9. A Columbo episode here and there. Wrote a few tunes. Jammed a li’l bit. Went “swimming”. Walked in the surf of the Atlantic. Did a yoga session on the beach. Had a crab feast. Had some North Carolina bbq. Got f’ed up by the most relentless, voracious mosquitos ever. Did some grillin’. Drank a lot of Woodchuck Draft Ciders. Crashed a kite into the sand numerous times. Watched Spinal Tap overdubbed with an AMC movie. Trippy. How that adds up to a week, I couldn’t tell you.
Here’s what I did NOT do. I did not get in the hot tub. I have watched Cinemax and I know what people do in hot tubs. Viscous, cloudy pool of heated water. Pass. Actually, it wasn’t viscous or cloudy but I still avoided it. Ironically, it was right outside the patio door from my room.
The first night I was there I was sitting on the beach watching the surf and listening to Ben Harper on the iPod. Waiting for a call to get the street number of the house as the sun was setting. The moon was out, shimmering on the waves. Behind me the sky was still glowing pink. And something bothered me. I couldn’t quite reconcile why the sun was setting but not over the water. WTH. Then I realized that it’s because I wasn’t in California. When I watched sunsets on the Pacific Ocean they happened over the ocean’s horizon. Atlantic Ocean — well, rises in the east, sets in the west. I am a confused individual.
I was thinking a lot about music on the way back. Here’s what I came up with after a few hours. Listening to jazz sometimes feels like I’m watching a “Weekend at Bernie’s” marathon. After a while, there’s only so much amusement you can get from a corpse wearing sunglasses being awkwardly puppeteered. By the way, every time I rag on the current jazz world I listen to some of the jazz CDs I have in my collection and am entranced. It’s such a powerful form of music. And yet when I hear a jazz station I’m bored with people playing the same dang songs as 50 years ago with the same instrumentation, the same textures, the same vocabulary. Another twelve bar blues. “Come Rain or Come Shine”. “My Funny Valentine.”
Then the DJ says, “And that’s the new one from so-and-so.”
Feh. Doesn’t sound new. Sounds like the 1930’s re-mastered. But then just when I’m fed up I hear something like Sean Jones’ “God’s Gift” from his “Roots” CD and it breathes some life back into me.
You know what was trippy about the beach? I was about to go for a walk with some people and I put on a pair of shorts, a cap, and I was going through my pockets trying to figure out what I needed. I didn’t need anything. No keys, wallet, music, cell phone, money, sling bag. I didn’t even need shoes. No accessories required, y’know. Freeing.
Well, I’m going to get ready for bed. Stay tuned for some new tunes.
Currently listening :
Both Sides of the Gun
By Ben Harper
Release date: By 21 March, 2006