Posts by Rob Azevedo
I’m telling you, it’s going to be one of those nights down at Jupiter Hall on Hanover this Friday night, I can feel it. No rain, no snow or fog in the forecast. Perfect weather for kicking around downtown, breaking in the brick. Great night to drink, get fat, then walk it off.
And today, as I sit at my desk awaiting my new desk calendar, clothed like an Eskimo, I look to 2020 and I see my 50th birthday approaching around the bend and I plan to paint the squares of the New Year like a graffiti artist might a bare wall at midnight, marking up the hours of my days and nights.
Q&A with Boston-based singer/songwriter Chris Trapper, performing at Jupiter Hall Dec. 13.
The wild ride wiped me out and I felt defeated by the dawn of a new season, once again. Â
Even on a gray afternoon, the sight of the bold sign bolted to the newly restored building on Amherst Street brings a flutter to my heart. Which could also be the onset of something disastrous. But, let’s stay focused. Â
When you blow your back out, everything changes. How you sit, eat, watch TV, slide off the couch, pee, shower (I do both at once), dry off, pull on your socks, get out of your car, and, good Lord, if your libido starts to itch (as it often does), make love. Â
The letter and the application went out in the mail sometime before winter, and by the start of my last semester at Wentworth, I received a letter from Plymouth State College, welcoming me into the fold. I was elated. Finally, I felt inside like my apprenticeship from being a nothing to something had ended.
Over the years, I’ve watched a handful of musicians that I’d grown to admire suddenly drop out of the music scene. Poof, just like that, they’re gone.
I didn’t go for the politics. I went for the spectacle. And it paid in spades. And it paid off with promise. What I see on TV night after night as I torture myself on a daily basis, watching all sides of the news — MSNBC to FOX — I came to see that it is quite possible that the news is somewhat bullshitting most of us. Â
The tap and strum, that pluck and pick, all of it going off at once. It was hypnotic to me, soothing, like a chime, a repetitive force that slowly works its way inward. An unworldly talented young man with many world’s ahead of him to feast on. World’s he’s never seen. World’s he’s loved and lived in. World’s Senie hopes to return to someday.