“PICTURE!” she yelled, and I knew I had to grab the Pentax. We were at a party, but I had it with me. Good thing, too.
A dog by any other name
He just stuck his head in there and barked. Amazing, I thought: all the disadvantages of owning a dog and none of the advantages. Or is it the other way around? It wasn’t our hosts’ dog, either.
I thought it was a wonderful event. Most of the 20 or so guests were musicians like the people who’d invited us. Everybody ate ham and scalloped potatoes and the baked pineapple dish I cooked and then scrambled into the living room to play acoustic music for hours… I even forgot about dessert, and I wish I had some of that cheesecake now.
This was a different kind of a deal. I’ve been to lots of parties in my time, mainly for the wrong reasons (whatever they are). But this wasn’t one of those. At one point about half the room disappeared — usually a signal — but I think that must have been when I missed last call for pie. Music does strange things to people. Nobody was throwing up in the bathroom, there wasn’t any dope, good God, we weren’t even drinking very much. Just music, and lots of it.
Old friend and new one (unfortunately blurred)
Obviously, I didn’t take that shot. A guy I’d never met came up to me and asked if he could take pictures with my camera, and I said sure. It was that kind of a scene. The greatest thing for me was that the hosts, both professional musicians, were so generous with their talent, playing and singing for the pure pleasure of it. Did I mention that we weren’t even drunk? (There’s a part of me that still wants to be bad, though. I did act out an awful joke about the Second Coming, but fortunately it doesn’t work in print.)
Looking on my life tonight, this much is certain: for someone allegedly heavy and weary, dragging battleship chains of guilt and desire through the belly of eternity, I do not seem to be having a bad time. Maybe I should worry.
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{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
Great shot of the dog! Sounds like a fine time was had by all.
Shame on you for missing cheesecake.
You can’t get a bunch of photographers together to just take pictures
for “fun”. Music people are a different breed. The joy of making music, it’s good fo the soul.
I’m a sucker for words: “Dragging chains of guilt and desire through the belly of eternity” are good ones. I ask the question: Are guilt and desire, or even dragging chains in eternity, utterly unredeemable if you can find the words to describe the experience? After all, these are the themes of the world’s greatest poetry. They’re closer to my own beat-up heart than the chimera of bliss (admittedly, a category of desire).
Frank, I still feel bad for missing dessert. In fact, I can hardly believe it.
K.J., as for beat-up hearts, what’s coming to me at the moment is that they need to be placed in a pot by a sunny window and allowed to grow. I think that’s one reason I came here. And you’re right about what words can do… the transformational power of art, basically. Mutate and own instead of reject and unbalance. (I can hear the real you in your comments, y’know. The same emotional color from almost 50 years ago.)