Handbill Handout

I have been staring at subway tracks for about a quarter of a century. Not continuously of course but at random intervals of varying duration. I would bet that I have spent more time staring at subway tracks (and the rails in particular) than 99% of the people alive on earth today which is of course a mathematical trick since probably at least 80% of the world’s population has never even been in a subway. The tracks lay there but if you stare at them long enough and pay close attention you can hear them speak. When a train is coming they make a sound like hailstones on a tin roof before the lights of the train even reach the station. If you watch carefully you’ll know that a train is approaching even before the rails begin to talk because you’ll see mice running out from under the rails. The mice feel the vibration of the approaching train before you can hear it and they run from under the rails into the gully separating the tracks or they scurry under the platform. The mice are more o...

The “little something to relax me” picked me up and dropped me off a cliff as I lay in the pre -op ward at the eye surgery center. Though other than that initial drop the sensation hadn ’t been all that bad and I was now in a slow-moving, muffled space tapping my feet to the classic rock they were playing over the PA system. It must’ ve been some song I didn ’t like because despite my foot tapping I started complaining to the anesthesiologist about the musical selections. “You should get some good jazz, like Coltrane and mix it with some mellow psychedelic stuff in here. Pink Floyd comes to mind. Seriously.” The anesthesiologist nodded and mumbled something to the nurse who took out a syringe and did the old pre -injection squirt and tap. “Was it something I said?” I said. “This will make you feel better. You ever see Lost in Space?” “The movie or the TV series? I’ ve seen both.” The nurse laughed as she injected whatever it was into my IV. “The TV series, the movie was prett...

Coach Ray is always saying "Follow the money". Well, now we can all follow the money... with music!

I wonder how many pictures tourists have taken of me. During the holidays the MTA moves my homeward-bound bus stop to 7 th avenue in the northern part of Times Square to avoid the crowds around the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. Just about every night that I’ ve taken the bus at least one family of tourists has taken a picture looking south from the uptown side of the bus stop to use Times Square as a background (“look at all them bright and shiny advertisin ’ signs Marge!”), which means all of us waiting at this particular bus stop are now immortalized as background for the family photo. Have you ever looked at the backgrounds of your own vacation shots and wondered about the people you accidentally captured? Made up stories about them maybe? I wonder how many people are doing that to me. Thus far I have resisted the temptation to do something like give the finger or stick my tongue out, though I think that being rude to the odd tourist was a public service. That way th...

I hope this snowstorm is bigger than they say. Nature is the only thing that can slow things down in the 21st century. Yes, I am at work right now, but things are winding down as people drift off for the holidays. Business slows in my industry for the two weeks containing Christmas and New Year’s, though in my particular area the day to day stuff never stops and we use the holidays to get ahead of the curve on upcoming projects that will hit the fan come the first Monday after New Year’s. But yes, I will have to deal with commuting home through the mess. Fine. For now, I can take a few minutes and watch the snow swirl outside. Unfortunately, right now I can only watch and not get the full experience. You see, what I really love is the sound of snow. The silence that a nice, thick snow covering provides at the height of a heavy snowfall that doesn ’t have too much wind. It’s a silence that almost lets you hear the plink of each flake as it adds to the pile. It pads and muffles and chan...

To me, the sound of the 21st century is other people’s cell phone conversations. In the past, I’ ve actually transcribed one side of conversations I hear on the bus. While it wasn ’t as funny as say, the Monty Python “Size 12” bit it kept me amused while I commuted. Anyone who has to slog an hour or more each way back and forth to work can tell you that’s half the battle. The content of a really entertaining conversation is almost like a good musical improvisation: it starts off with a familiar melody, goes off into an interesting diversion and returns to the familiar at the end. Inevitably, the opener is either “I’m on the bus” or “ Waddayadoin ?” The latter in particular makes me cringe because it is a completely valueless question. The answer is obvious – “I’m talking to you, idiot”. If I’m lucky, the call will take an interesting turn from there before ending up with the familiar “OK, I’m going over the bridge, should be home in (whatever time)”. The interesting turn can be someth...