[17 July, 2011]

crescent moon

Gypsy String Music @ Freight & Salvage...

Lists & Thoughts:

1) Turns out, I close my eyes and twiddle my thumbs to music. A familiar familial image. Nature, nurture, or nostalgia?

2) I close my eyes and listen to my breath match rhythmically with harp accords. I watch my thoughts evaporate in green curlicues.

3) Gypsy music connects me to my ancestors from the Caucuses (the true Caucasians), the trojan horses, the frauds, the foreigners in classical, aristocratic St. Petersburg.

4) It's clear: being nomadic, being a stranger in a strange land is in my blood with an intensity that ebbs and flows like tides that crash across rocky shores.

5) Otherness and familiarity both define my existence.

6) My distant dreams, the stars in my head: to live in Russia once again, to learn and play folk music, and, to join my grandpa in the armchair, giant headphones over our ears, and twiddle our thumbs.

0 sighs or salutations:

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