dogs bark, children shout
frisbees being tossed around
playful is the park

Everyone seems to out catching the sun ...while it's here.

Clouds, heavy with rain, are all about.
Yesterday was wet, and so tonight, tomorrow and the next few days are expected to be.
But for now, this break, these few hours, the sun has broken through and it's a beautiful day. But as is common in San Francisco, it'll only take an hour or so for all this to turn quite ugly.

You can see the clouds amassing; the sun rays are weakening.

Instead of fretting over the expected bad weather, I should just enjoy the moment.

Don't over-react...

But what did she mean?
Why did she say what she said the way she said it?

Don't over-react...

Why am I inferring the "negative"?
Was my initial comment made to elicit a response?
Was it a sub-conscious "dig"?
Was it, again, one of those insensitive off-the-cuff remarks made casually by me without any consideration for how it might negatively affect someone else?
Am I responsible for the insecurities of everyone else?

You're over-reacting....

Should I apologize ...no!
That would be admitting some wrong doing
and I didn't do any wrong,
or at least that wasn't my intent.

And then again, maybe I'm just reading this whole thing wrong.
I won't do anything;
I won't over-react.

I've just returned from the sea
...the ocean actually.

The day is grey, not gloomy, but not bright.
There's no sun; the sky is the color of fog,
so you can't distinguish between the fog
and the monotonal blanket of clouds.

I like to visit Ocean Beach on days like this.
There's a certain beauty to the violence and
primal rage of the Pacific Ocean
as it heaves and churns in its journey to and from the shore.

I like to listen to Debussy's "La Mer"
while sitting atop the sea wall
gazing with awe at the size and raw power of the ocean
...the sountrack emphasizing it's majesty.

There's enough unobstructed view to see the curvature of the earth.
You can actually sense the size of the planet.
This always makes me feel so minuscule.

The sky is grey; the sea is grey.
The sand has no sun rays to reflect so it too is grey.
The whole landscape resembles a black and white photograph
that's been oh so slightly tinted with faint traces of color.

Gil Shaham. I've been hearing a lot about him lately, hearing a lot of his music. Not only from the classical station I listen to, but he was the featured soloist in a PBS broadcast of that Mendelssohn concerto I love. It was noticeably different; it really captured my interest. At first I didn't recognize it. His interpretation was different from what I'd heard (and become familiar with) from my Anne-Sophie Mutter and Joshua Bell recordings. I remember thinking "I like this.

He's currently appearing here at the San Francisco Symphony (with MTT) from the 17th to the 20th. I should try to check him out. But I mustn't dawdle. It'd be just like me to wait until the evening of the 20th to call and find there aren't any tickets left.

Is he new on the music scene, or has he been around and I'm just hearing about him. The same thing recently with Jean-Yves Thibaudet. All of a sudden, you hear his name mentioned everywhere [where people are talking about classical music] and you hear his music a lot.

It's funny how classical "stars" come out of nowhere and rise to fame and notariety, but stay there only briefly. For awhile, they are all you hear about. Then, suddenly there's someone new that everyone's talking about, and the previous one just blends into the background with all the other performers ...all of whom obviously keep performing, and their genius is undeniable, but they stop being "stars".

For all the work they put into their craft ...no, their art, they deserve stardom much more than the superficial, insubstantial crop of celebrities [we] so insatiably pay homage too.

But considering the market demographic that drives this "fame" machine, classic musicians just don't sell. It really doesn't take anything special to be a famous celebrity, just a good publicist and perhaps an "unfortunate" video tape.