On the way home from class tonight, I heard a jazz drummer practicing up in one of the practice rooms somewhere in a nearby building. It’s terribly windy tonight, and he (I think I glimpsed him through a window, and it was indeed a ‘he’) was burning his way through a fast post-boppish cycle, and the sound of the crashing cymbals and off-kilter rhythm seemed to match the low-roaring wind just perfectly.
If I weren’t feeling sniffly and sick, I might have gone looking for him, to see if he was good as he sounded from far away. It’d be fun to have someone to jam with occasionally, now that I got my saxes back from their long-suffering keeper, Shawn-in-Jeonju.
Ah well… not tonight, anyway.