Holy
fuck. I love this sunshine weather. It’s glorious, and reminds me that after a
long ass winter, there’s light at the end of the tunnel.
Yesterday,
I had a lovely run and made a great snack of mung bean granola that I’ve decided
to call #mungyum. I think it’ll be my
handle for everything delish that I make for this spring. After I stuffed my face (as I said I would!)
I sat in my lab. Some new incense from
the Indian market on Ludlow and 13th Floor from Outkast’s old-old
album found me decidedly comfortable and at peace.
Much of
my day was spent in silence, which is unusual for me since I live by
music. But the sun, the birds, the
sounds of construction from the next street over all seemed like music enough
for me.
As the
daughter of a musician, I have a decided love for the beats that help my soul
resonate. I grew up with music, and by
that I mean that there was always music playing in the house. I don’t remember a single day of my childhood
that didn’t include either Mama’s game, Name
This Tune, or Papa riffing some chords on a guitar, a bass, the drums, a
keyboard, saxophone, my clarinet.
Maybe
that’s one of the reasons I don’t have a television, or consider it when I’m
wondering what to do with myself. I just
put on some tunes and vibe, much like other folks turn on the boob tube and let
the craft of others take them to another place.
That’s exactly what happens with me and music.
It nourishes
me. Music sustains me. I relate songs to certain moments in my life,
and find a way to understand what’s happening through the music I’m listening
to. It’s one of the reasons I’m so
charged when it comes to what I’m listening to.
When I get in Loretta (my Honda, remember) at 0540 every morning for the
drive to the office, the music I choose seems to set the tone for the day. Maybe it’s because I’m an artist. Maybe it’s because I grew up with tunes. I’m not sure.
But I know that it keeps me in the same way as I expect it keeps others –
whole, alive, decidedly complete.
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