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July 21, 2004
Some Kind of Wonderful
The last two days have been less than wonderful beginning with a short bout of insomnia on Monday evening. Realizing the amount of work I have to complete before the end of August sent me into a depressive tailspin: a chapter to write, a proposal for a publication to be submitted, a couple of conference paper proposals due, a re-read of the Iliad necessary and so on. After watching lots of late night television and listening to different radio stations (really productive, I know), I began Tuesday with the sunrise. As usual, I booted up the computer with the intent to check e-mail, read newspapers, etc before I headed to the gym. However, this morning, upon connecting with the Internet, Adware, a virus, overwhelmed my computer, which quickly became inoperable. Okay, so no morning ritual. After marking more student assignments than I wanted to, Erica arrived so that we could spend a last afternoon together before she caught her flight. While we were walking under the 125th Street Station, a bird flew overhead only to shit on my head, which, having turned to speak to Erica at that very moment, was at a particular angle: the shit hit me in the eye! Immediately, I returned home convinced that this was a sinister omen for the future and felt the paranoid fear of contracting a real virus.
After work today, with the worst of yesterday out of mind, I talked myself into going for a short walk instead of stewing over my worries in my apartment. When I reached the corner of my block, I noticed traffic circling Grant’s tomb, along with people and the sounds of music and clapping. Feeling like I had nothing to lose, I went up to discover the “Jazzmobile” parked before the tomb and a sizeable crowd of folks enjoying the sounds of David ‘Fathead’ Newman and his band. While I am not a fan of the music, I lingered, watching the crowd continue to gather and enjoying the old African-American men gather together near me, shuffling to the music and talking up the jazz. I especially liked watching the drummer of the band because I longed to learn how to play the drums as a teen, especially after seeing the opening credit sequence to the John Hughes film, “Some Kind of Wonderful” (for those with a teen-movie memory). With my 33rd birthday coming up in August, I convinced myself I should buy drumming lessons to celebrate: what better way to get out of my head and build my biceps? As I watched the jazz band, though, I found the piece they were playing infectious—the patterned music building up to an intermediate refrain that let the pattern drop back to its simplest notes, only expanding as the crowd began getting into the groove—and for the first time in days I smiled.
Posted by G at July 21, 2004 08:26 PM
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Comments
Drummers are sexy and have really nice arms, except for that guy from Def Leppard.
Posted by: Glenn at July 25, 2004 02:04 AM
Pop Quiz: What is the song she is playing in those opening credits?
Posted by: telefrank at August 4, 2004 10:22 AM