Upsetting
Thursday, October 30, 2003
 
Not to disrespect these bad motherfuckers by intimating that I could ever approach their greatness, but the sounds of Ray Bryant, Bobby Timmons and Wynton Kelly are why I spend the evening playing piano instead of watching LeBron James ball while my girl is away.

Last night I listened to Pharoah Sanders’ 37-minute Black Unity jam. Afterward, I downshifted into Ray Bryant’s Alone with the Blues, and I haven’t been able to spend a moment away from the piano since. This is some very heavy shit, Philadelphia-style.

The fires are still raging here, but the weather has cooled and moistened a bit, and the air quality in better. The Red Cross is still looking for handouts, and the TV networks are shilling for the cause.

I’m gonna burn a couple hundred Ray Bryant CD’s and send ‘em to the Catholic Charities attn: The Hustler Priest, Father Joe.

Stay strong.
 
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