Kevin Brennan Writes About What It's Like
I don’t know about you, but nobody speaks to me at Christmastime like Tom Waits.
I’m retreating into my toasty lair for a few days, polishing up new posts for the new year, learning to bake bread, reading, hiking in the woods of the Sierra foothills, and basically trying to ignore the cataclysm going on in the outside world. I’m using the election to immerse myself in the modes of the major scale (where’ve you been all my life, Mr. Dorian?), transcribing Kenny Burrell and Wes Montgomery, writing songs even if no one else ever hears them, appreciating my life-luck, monitoring my blood pressure, and making sure I take note of the beautiful things wherever they may turn up. Last night it was a magenta sunset.
Take good stock, and enjoy your holidays, everyone.