I found this 15 year old video of a bearded me doing spoken word to a harmonica sample I made on the spot while wearing my late grandfather’s ‘Wyoming’ trucker hat as my coworker beat boxed.
Two performances in the same space recorded 21 years apart. The first (on an Intel cs430 webcam) in August 2001, just after my mom and I moved from virginia to a small house on cape cod. The second (on a Sony pxw-x70) in August 2022, the night before she moved out and left the cape for good.
I can't stop watching this and it pains me to admit that I love what I see. There's certainly not much discipline or talent on display, but I'm charmed by something else.
Not all playground art needs to be representational murals in primary colors. Check out how inspiring this handball court near my apartment in Brooklyn is.
We bought a Birdbuddy for my father-in-law for Christmas, and I was able to set it up for him this last weekend. He was so confused by it until now. He loves it.
A blue jay visited right away, but now there are cardinals, wrens, and sparrows.
