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this heat is making me drowsy, anxious, restless, predatory.
no one has it in them to comment, or at least no one i see. i want to plaster photos of myself all over town.
my dramatic and fatal statement for this week is: i will die if i don't learn how to play the piano this year. the songs in my head have gotten out of control and need to be made fit for public consumption; i will pay off my credit card and buy a fancy keyboard, i will play a show at the irving - if it kills me.
it has to be the heat; weather like this makes me dream. fall, corduroy, red lipstick are calling.
you've gotta move, you've gotta move, you've gotta move.
i've gotta move, i've gotta move, i've gotta move.
Labels: Two steps forward
posted by lindsay at 23:06 ::
6 Comments:
the heat made me want to do nothing other than sit on the couch in a certain boy's apartment all weekend. i felt like i should be out getting sunlight, maybe even getting a little tan.
i think i have an old beginning piano book somewhere at home that you're welcome to if you want it. :)
By 
furious_rose, at
2:45 AM
Somehow, I now own five stringed instruments, none of which I'd dare play in front of anyone.
Plus a sweet little blues harmonica that's been waiting for me to quit smoking and make it scream for a decade now.
Piano's a noble goal... but consider something a little lighter, eh?
You wouldn't believe how long it'll get carried around; yea, even unto the next generation...
[validation word: bisohz, as in "where my bisohz at?"]
By Frank Charlemagne, at
10:55 AM
frank, frank, frank. hence the KEYBOARD thing, as keyboards are far more mobile than an entire baby grand.
there's a piano at my mom's house that i'll inherit eventually, but i'm not concerned about it now.
http://www2.indystar.com/iclassifieds/bin/op.php?class=Ad&action=displaySearchResults&group=Daily+Deal&value%5B%5D=Daily+Deal&keyword=piano&results_per_page=50
By 
, at
3:51 PM
effing heat.
I sat in my kid's baby pool drinking whiskey on Sunday.
Scary, huh?
Now all I want is sleep, sleep, sleep.
By Erin O'Brien, at
10:46 AM
I keep forgetting it's the twenty-first century now, and some things are smaller.
My bride's keyboard has been boxed for quite a while, taking up about fifty cubic feet of my basement. (If you count its amp, without which it makes no sound of any kind.)
And, yes, it is older than you are.
By Frank Charlemagne, at
9:00 PM