|Courtesy of MLusk, Weather Records|
In the old days, and still in parts of the old world, people would play in town orchestras, town brass bands. They'd do this at night, practice on the weekdays, on the weekends.
Me, I play the tuba! I play the trombone! Triangle!
This, amid the grime and expulsion, would give equal parts meaning to their lives. Equal to nothing, and anything else. Some people would write letters. Others would watch a game on the television or better, go to the stadium. We'd all drink beer or wine, or tea or coffee.
Times are not so different.
I don't know anyone who does not go as quickly as they come.