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Mercedes Benz…

Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz?
My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends.
Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends,
So Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz?

Janis Joplin and her Mercedes Benz…

Of course, my pity me, pity bee self, let those lyrics set in my heart at a young age while I licked my “How many licks does it take to reach the center of a Tootsie Pop?”

Joplin was amazing.

A white chick who could wail like a black chick and gained kudos beyond the norm for being a white chick who could wail like a black chick. Meanwhile the black chicks who are the backup singers to the white musicians remain in the background, behind the lines of the white musicians who need their sound to cross barriers and bring in more buyers of their records.

Tina Turner was amazing as she wailed out in front while her backup singers remained in the back. The black chicks that is…

‘Nuf said.’

So…

Back to asking for that Mercedes Benz…

The ONE and ONLY, THE LEADER OF US ALL, the one otherwise known as JEHOVAH, YAHWEH, ADONAI, GOD, THE ALMIGHTY…this stops here (Current thunder and lightning storm taking place and it is not wise to anger the ONE who controls the weather). Well he’s not giving me a Benz, nor am I asking for it. What I want, what I really want, and yes, I’m telling you, is a grand piano.   piano-1522856__340

 Sigh…

I’ve been teased by three grands over the years.

The first was a Bechstein, when the company was in NY, before the rents went up. It was a lower end model, selling for $8k. I let it go or rather it let me go, for when I decided yes it was the one, someone else bought it then mom, my mom, became sick…very sick.

SOLD

The second was a Mason and Hamlin which sat in a church collecting dust in the corner. I begged, tried to borrow, could not steal- everyone. No loan, no piano. It was bought the next day and ended up on Craigslist a month later selling for $15k. Duh…

SOLD

The third piano, and yes this is it. No more searching, do, did, done. Nunca más.  The heart (mi corazón) cannot allow false hope (esperanza)  to take hold only to dissipate into steam, traveling upwards towards the sky (el cielo) , out of reach, out of sight, out of mind. piano-1655558__340

Sigh…

This time, it was a 5 foot 7 Steinway grand, placed on Craigslist and discovered while scouring the job market ads. The address on the ad was located five blocks up from where I live. Yes, my neighbor who moved here twenty years ago before the gentri came, when it was cool and hip to live here, when the rents were under $2k…enough…is currently selling their 5 foot 7 Steinway grand for an unheard of price.

Bubble gum wraps!!!!  (Not the words I prefer to use but profanity is such a cliché reaction-whatever)

Sigh…

No funds reserved in a savings account, in a 401k fund, in a money market, in an overseas bank account, in a CD, in a mattress or under it, in a silver plated box buried in the backyard, or in a sugar daddy’s pocket. My salary will not cover the cost of the piano, as the salary itself is a joke because I work with others who make way more than me for doing way less.piano-2412403__340

Go figure.

Borrowing the money to pay for the piano is akin to hitting lotto’s biggest jackpot. So close but yet so far or rather I pretend the wasted money I used to purchase the lotto ticket  will bring me riches as I do not know a soul who would lend me the Benjamins, period.

So…

Getting back to Janis with a twist:

Oh Lord, won’t you buy me, my neighbour’s Steinway?

My friends play Bosendorfer’s, I must make amends

Worked hard all my lifetime, switching careers back and forth

So Lord, won’t you buy me my neighbour’s Steinway?

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Curses and Blessings or Running around in Purgatory since Training is one step above Hell and one step down from Heaven…

Wowza, what a can opener of a title!

But…

Titles ain’t nothing but a bunch of words struggling to rise to importance above the mediocre of other titles with a bunch of words struggling…

Okay. I stop.

In between days or rather in between jobs trying to figure out where to go from where I’ve been. Vet medicine is amazing when things go right, amazing when things go wrong, amazing.

Except…

When you work with people:

-who wear fur coats

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– who abusively use anti barking shock collars on their dogs

– who state you are “too nice with the animals” when restraining

– who laugh at you trying to comfort an animal coming out of anesthesia

-who only croon over the ‘cute ones’ while the ugly ones continue to stress from fear due to neglect not only from the previous owners but now the vet staff

-who come in to work with the alcohol from last night on the breath stench

-who sip Irish whiskey while rounding

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Okay. I stop.

Ruminating about the past, sours the moment of the present and surely delays the arrival of the future.

So…

I return to Curses and Blessings, which have nothing to do with the career I once loved, now loathe and in the process of giving up, but to running.

Yes, running.

The one thing keeping me sane right now and out of this place.

Rikers-Island1

Have you ever heard of a runner going postal on the supermarket line or better yet going postal waiting for the subway?  imgres

Running (interval running in my case) gives me endorphins which are free, and produced by my brain (your brain as well). Endorphins are pain reducers and create within the body a feeling akin to morphine.

Are Endorphins addictive?

Not sure.

Ask Eminem.

2017 is the year of the 10k and the ½ marathon races. A graduation from the 5k’s of 2016. I have yet to run a 10k, (April 9th is the first one) and the ½ marathon is not until October. Nevertheless, it is the year for transition and changes, literally and figuratively.

Now. Back to the title, the can opener which began this work of words.

While I run I listen to an eclectic bunch of music which I classify as Curses (sex, drugs, rnr, rehab and Led Zepplin (sigh) ) and blessings (chanting, Buddhism, Catholicism and Godspell-the musical) all within the scope of: opera, classical, disco, rap, rock (old school) new wave, county and so forth.

Take Led Zepplin. Curses or Blessings?

How about Buddhism chants? Curses or Blessings? (careful with your choice here)

I run.

Through transition and changes, figuratively and literally.

I run.

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Dreaming is not always free…

The symbols for various dynamic markings

The symbols for various dynamic markings (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I began piano lessons four years ago and bought my first piano, a $500 digital weighted keyboard which endured and occasionally continues to endure the wrath of my practicing.  Alas, infatuation with the digital, but not the lessons, evaporated as my skills increased. A digital keyboard sound is electronic, a reproduction of a pre-recorded acoustic piano sound.  A digital piano with its lack of hammers and strings does not produce the tonality, forte and passimo as well as sustain or fading notes found on an acoustic.

I moved on up…piano wise.

The acoustic spinet, once neglected but now attention riddled was my next purchase. Bought in a dilapidated piano warehouse in Brooklyn, the spinet was chosen from among the endless rows of others in various stages of disrepair-some physically pronounced. My piano teacher at the time approved her worthiness and $1,800.00 (including delivery) of blood, sweat and tears money earned went into the dealer’s pocket.

Baldwin Acrosonic was her name and out of tune, she would remain, until two weeks later, in my living room, now situated, now regulated.

For three years, we carried on in ignorant bliss. My pounding forte fingers, her gentle response, my fingers running scales and chords with crescendos, her gentle response, my delicate pianissimo fingers, and her nothingness response.  Our relationship, strong at the beginning, now schlepped along, dwindling, unfolding into nothingness,  like a rolling ball of yarn.

I, long to move on up…piano wise.

It’s not possible nor is it happening anytime soon. Finances and space prevent the headfirst dive into the world of the “GRAND PIANO”.  The elusive Estonia my fingers want to touch, the dreaded and over rated Steinway, the  Bosendorfer, Grotrian-there must be German in my blood, and the low tier Hailun which should be affordable but not affordable for me are visions of love and lust resting in a dreams of hope.

The hope of one day acquiring the chosen “grand” to sit in my living room, moving in as the neglected spinet moves out, is a costly dream.

The Neglected Spinet

My piano, a 1964 Acrosonic Spinet (Baldwin) has not been feeling the love lately.  

The love being my clumsy fingers tapping on its’ imitation ivory keys as I struggle through yet another classical piece that is beyond my learning curve.

Busyness has taken over my time.

Busy with work, busy with the boys (dogs), busy trying to exercise, busy getting dressed in order to exercise, busy trying a diet, busy modifying the diet to meet my needs versus the needs of the diet itself.

Boy, am I busy.

Busy setting up the altar for mass with the chalice, wine, ciborium and wafers. Busy attending church, participating and praying. Busy cleaning up the altar after mass washing the chalice, bringing home the linens for washing.

Busy.

Busy with being busy, as the piano sits, going out of tune from the lack of love.

So, tonight, after dragging myself home through the NYC subways, (which incidentally is not my preferred method of transportation during hot, humid ,NYC summer days) and after noshing on some food, I will sit in front of the piano and practice.

I will play as if the first time, three years ago when my spinet came home.

Still busy.

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