The World Is A Possibility If Only

I Remember That I'm Invisible And Walk Softly So As Not Awake The Sleeping Ones. Sometimes It Is Best Not To Awaken Them; There Are Few Things In The World As Dangerous As Sleepwalkers.

The Clock Ticked With Empty Urgency, As Though Trying To Catch Up With The Time. In The Street A Siren Howled.

The Blues Is An Art Of Ambiguity, An Assertion Of The Irrepressibly Human Over All Circumstance Whether Created By Others Or By One's Own Human Failings. They Are The Only Consistent Art In The United States Which Constantly Remind Us Of Our Limitations While Encouraging Us To See How Far We Can Actually Go. When Understood In Their More Profound Implication, They Are A Corrective, An Attempt To Draw A Line Upon Man's Own Limitless Assertion.

Life Is As The Sea, Art A Ship In Which Man Conquers Life's Crushing Formlessness, Reducing It To A Course, A Series Of Swells, Tides And Wind Currents Inscribed On A Chart.

In Those Days It Was Either Live With Music Or Die With Noise, And We Chose Rather Desperately To Live.