Vance’sMondayNightAcousticPajamaParty#42 - HappyNewYearZeroAgendaShow
No plan. I’ll just sing. I swear.
When: Monday Nite, January 4th 7:30PM EDT (“doors” open at 7 for community hang) -
Who gets 10%: https://www.passim.org - I’m circling back around to my home, Club Passim. Home base, my album release landing, my show construction house. My songwriting litmus proving ground. The oldest continually operating folk venue in the US. And a pillar of acoustic music education and support for our community at large.
$$$: http://paypal.me/vancevancevance or
a check to VanceFunder P.O. Box 17, Arlington, MA 02476 for this web-groovery.
Pay or not. Up to you. Let’s stay connected.
This week’s pajamas: yes
I coach voice, songwriting, performance. Contact me. I have some open spots
Good Good Man - the CD - streaming all platforms, even get it from me…
**All my CD’s for whatever you want to pay plus postage for the Holidays. Lemme know**
It was the last Monday of the year. Average office day. I’d had a quick meeting with my agent as to how the future might unfold when the world allowed me to get back onto the road. On my planned afternoon off, I’d hit a snag in a model aircraft project, fixing a cosmetic thing gone sideways, getting it back to not award winning but acceptable condition.
I sang OK on my PajamaParty show feed. Quite a bit going on in that lovely community. One apologized for having a tough post-chemo day, warning that they may fall asleep to my music and that I was to not be offended. Someone else posted that their father was dying as I played, and they warned too that they may be inactive if they got the call during the show. Guarded hopes for a better year all around, and goodnight.
I hadn’t run at night in ages. I had no chance to go during the day. Black ice (or “ice of color” as the woke me calls it) wasn’t a worry, as it had warmed. 10 to 5 curfew didn’t worry me either. I’d just say in my defense I was heading home after 10. I really was. I’d be toast, but this was my opportunity to put some weight - physically and cerebrally - behind me. Just a numb, aimless jog.
I put on Rufus & Chaka Khan’s second album, then switched to silence, earbuds tucked into my pocket. On a whim, I headed to the wood near the golf course hoping to maybe hear an owl. One hoot or two would make my evening. Just a half-hearted, half-empty wish to cap the jar of my somewhat average, heavy-brained existence questioning day.
I was almost past the corner of Lantern and Hutchinson when a huge, utterly silent swoop darkened my directly overhead sky for a split second. 12 feet up, max. My aging eyes traced the swoop to its pine tree end, and I had the presence of mind to take my Chaka Khan-quieted phone out and take this picture.
I’m no photographer. But can you see that tiny bright white spot in the pic center? That’s not an anomaly on your screen. You can see the outlines if you study closely around that. I looked down to flick the flashlight setting on the phone, looked up, and it was gone. I had to have gained 3 inches in my running shoes and lost another 20 pounds.
I never heard the owl I wanted to hear. But like Mick Jagger sings “Sometimes you might find... you get what you need.”
Happy New Year xovg
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