Heat is work and work is heat

This is Sisyphus, enjoying the rolling of the rock. Did the rock feel cool and smooth on his hands? Did the endorphins kick in?

The need for the work must be generated, the way made clear, and then the work must be done. It does not have to mean anything. It means you can pay your bills. It does not have to resonate with your deeper beliefs about the world and your place in it. It is work, and it must go on. The work will never be done, and that is the blessing. If the source of the work- the great pipe that belches out tasks for us- should be severed, there yawns disaster and the abyss. The abyss is more beautiful than the work. Like all space, it is full of intangible possibilities. It is too beautiful to behold, really, because it is a terrifying, feral beauty. The stone cold beauty of truth. The universe in a grain of sand. The last word.

Today, I am putting up Christmas decorations in the office. It has been very strange to tangle with lights without a cup of spiked eggnog, Johnny Mathis and my mom on the couch, reminiscing over ornaments as they come out of the box.

It's Friday night and I'm at a coffee shop, posting old photographs on facebook because I miss my friends. I'm now one of those people who sit alone in the cafe with a laptop, just screwing around. To my credit, I am not wearing headphones.

The nights are very long these days. There is that sense of always having one's shoulder to the wheel, like Sisyphus, trying to be forthright about it, trying to work hard and look forward to the payoff in sunnier days. It's hard, though. I feel a tension around my eyes almost all of the time, like they just want to close and I won't let them. It was actually a sunny day, but it was all gone by the time I got off work.

In other news, I have all kinds of action coming up, starting in January, and I'll have to have ALL KINDS of memorizing done by then. It's so hard to focus on what seems like a lonely endeavor at this stage.

Okay, there is one wonderful thing about sitting at a desk all day and emerging into the dark street. It does make it easier to get my head together and plan and scheme my concerts. I don't tend to hem and haw and hesitate. I think: what have I got to lose? Nobody's going to hand me any musical opportunities in here.

Slowly but surely (I hope) is my musical career advancing like a very tiny steamroller. Here is a picture of one of my ensembles, Stolen Bread. (I always wanted to use that name for a tango band, but I don't think it's in the cards.) I am currently putting all kinds of irons in the fire, and wondering when I'm going to learn and practice all this music enough to perform it. Oh well. I always say: book the hall and choose the dress and somehow the music'll get learned. Is that what I always say? The thing I really do always say is: Is it dark ALREADY? (sigh).