Nothing To See Here

Readers visiting waka waka waka this evening confident that yesterday’s service interruption must have been due to the gestation of a particularly expansive discursion upon some fascinating topic or other are, I’m sorry to report, mistaken. While there is as always no shortage of topics, events, and cultural foibles about which an essayist might comment, tonight I am unequal to the task, and must refrain.

My infirmity, which should pass soon enough, is due to having spent a very long day — from nine-thirty in the morning Tuesday until almost three o’clock in the morning Wednesday — in the ‘A’ room at Avatar Studios (my alma mater, formerly Power Station), then trudging home to Brooklyn, sleeping for what seemed about fifteen minutes, and going right back into Manhattan to spend a long day at the office grappling with some particularly troublesome C++ code.

The session yesterday was enjoyable enough; an eclectic ensemble featuring jazz luminaries Steve Khan, Bob Mintzer, John Patitucci, and Jack deJohnette, Latin percussionists Manolo Badrena, Ralph Irizzary, and Roberto Quintero, and tabla player Badal Roy, with his wife Geeta on tamboura. But getting a setup like that ready to record takes time, and the music was complex and challenging, so it turned out to be a much, much longer day than I had expected. Normally one would hibernate in a dark room for most of the next day after a session like that, but the call of life’s duties must be answered, so I wobbled in to the office and squinted at the screen as productively as I could manage. Now it is half past eleven, and the tank is, I am afraid, quite empty. So I beg your forgiveness, but there will be no post again tonight.

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