a day in the life of piano monkey

Monkey and the Moon Reflection, Gekko Ogata (1859-1920) on way home from work, i looked up, as i often do. it is funny isnt it, we no longer really have to hunt for food or worry about predators- well, not in the sense that you may be eaten by a sabertooth tiger or something. there are much unlikely chance that something may fall out of sky and actually kill you, though in rough place like canada (this is for you european pansies dealing with the snowstorm earlier this year)(with affection, of course), there are people who gets killed by falling ice sleets from big building roofs. but mostly, such tragedies are limited to inconvenient bird poos and such. and living in a downtown area, one either gets really skilled at jaywalking (though this, i think the brits do it better) or follow the traffic lights (a sure way to arrive alive, most of the time). and both can be done with just a bit of side glances. so, in concordance to the anonymity along the mass, one often looks nowhere whi...

*repost from last year's musing somewhere on back of my pocket with dust bunnies. on tired face still pale with the weight of the days with the thickest paint and brightest glitters one night a year, we celebrate another artificial holiday once in remembrance of the deceased now in rememberance of currently deceasing. laughed out loud at foolish pageantry another consumerism success, i often looked with disdane at this despearate escape to fantasies of each one. tonight i look closer as a mobster in observance the girls and boys with their unquinched wanting for friendship and belonging, dresses up as princesses and heroes, going through strangers' door to another breaking the daily rule of isolation and self-containment giggling with excitement not only for the candies but for the rare moments of togetherness the adults with even more thirst crowd the streets with if overtly sexual, sometimes crude often genius creative but mostly store-purchased icons of dreams musings frustr...