I stopped reading this soon after beginning and found the "Kind of Blue" album on YouTube, then continued reading. Though it didn't have the crackling magic, the sound, the feel of vinyl, it was still a magic nonetheless when paired with your words. This is an intoxicating piece. It put me in a club somewhere late at night. The band playing for themselves before a thinned crowd, as you describe. It's a moment, a sense of nirvana, of existing not in the past, the future, but in the present, completely in the present. While what crowd remains nods their heads collectively, tap their feet, while a couple dances slowly and a little drunkenly, while everything is everything and in motion, there is that stillness. This the stillness, the peace, the slice of time cut from the rest of it just for one; no one else shares it, no one else can.
Your references, your quotes, how your words part around them like a river while carrying their essence, and yours, downstream, are deftly done.
This is educational and joyful, and artful, and I will return to it and your page.
I loved this writing, thr aesthetics of the diaspora, Black aesthetics and how it connects to other cultures methods of improvisation, of existing in the present moment, existing in the spontaneous which is connected and a part of all the other moments. I wish I could be a vampire (meaning I have all the time in the world) and devote my time to studying the aesthetics of Jazz and the inherent symbolism and importance of it when it comes to Black spiritual traditions.
I stopped reading this soon after beginning and found the "Kind of Blue" album on YouTube, then continued reading. Though it didn't have the crackling magic, the sound, the feel of vinyl, it was still a magic nonetheless when paired with your words. This is an intoxicating piece. It put me in a club somewhere late at night. The band playing for themselves before a thinned crowd, as you describe. It's a moment, a sense of nirvana, of existing not in the past, the future, but in the present, completely in the present. While what crowd remains nods their heads collectively, tap their feet, while a couple dances slowly and a little drunkenly, while everything is everything and in motion, there is that stillness. This the stillness, the peace, the slice of time cut from the rest of it just for one; no one else shares it, no one else can.
Your references, your quotes, how your words part around them like a river while carrying their essence, and yours, downstream, are deftly done.
This is educational and joyful, and artful, and I will return to it and your page.
Great work.
Thank you! Check out the sister piece, A Prayer For Hands in Cool Water (01).
One day you will write my liner notesss because this soooooooooo beautiful
Thank you!
I loved this writing, thr aesthetics of the diaspora, Black aesthetics and how it connects to other cultures methods of improvisation, of existing in the present moment, existing in the spontaneous which is connected and a part of all the other moments. I wish I could be a vampire (meaning I have all the time in the world) and devote my time to studying the aesthetics of Jazz and the inherent symbolism and importance of it when it comes to Black spiritual traditions.
I often feel the same! (Vampire-wise)