Another night in the bass waves, the invisible paradise that is excellence in music. And of course the splendid multifaceted performance that, like song, is a time-based happening that starts, progresses, and thereafter is finished.
Another busy week of work eclipsed, another weekend already upon me (and you, and most everyone). Questioning the role of days on the International Space Station. Realizing then that days on Earth are as arbitrary as days suspended above earth.
Whatever the case, … something good should come of it all. At least a paycheck, at most… there’s too much potential most. At most something grand and unexpected, or a meritocratic ascension into related desired work.