We bumped into these guys on Spring Street (between Green and Mercer Streets, by the Apple Store) singing a cappella with their rendition of “Do You Love Me (Now That I Can Dance)”. I’ve seen these guys in the area before, and they draw quite the crowd - they sound fabulous together.

I was coming home last night, and made my way down to the 6 train platform at 52nd & Lex (I was running to SoHo to the Apple Store to get me a new iPod nano - read the blog above for that cluster fuck story), and at the top of the stairs that take you under the track to catch the 6 downtown, was this amazing jazz band - I forget the name, I’ll report back with their name if when I catch them next.

Anyway, I felt like commenting on how freaking COOL it is to have great live music in the subway, turning my ‘thank fuck the week’s over’ drivel into ‘yeah, let’s dance baby!’.

The band consisted of an Asian guy on sax, black guy on keyboard and a white guy on guitar. These guys were awesome - and they drew a crowd too, which I love to see.

Thanks for making my end-of-week trip home that much more enjoyable.

since moving into my new abode, here in the heart of brooklyn, I have come to the very recent conclusion that I live in a district of religious warmth, a community rife with compassion, forgiveness, and a profound love for humanity. I sit here as I type away, sporadically adding to the megabytes already stored by the thousands of servers at blogger.com HQs, and listen to the harmonious singing of people praising to a lord that protected those that lived through the terrible events of the gulf coast this week. indeed, they’re singing praise to god. I can’t quite make out all the words, but the commercial quality of the harmony, and the distinct sincerity in my neighbors’ voices, brings me to a place I seldom have the opportunity to visit.

I can’t quite pull myself away from the affecting emotion that these words tonight, hold special meaning to those lost, those that perished, and those that are without doubt, going through one of this world’s worst nightmares.

morose verbose