Cry baby

Adele sang here at Canal Room on Wednesday night. Then I went over to Rockwood Music Hall and hosted the monthly series I do there for Rebel Spirit Music, my friend Greg Holden played- he is wonderful. Then I went home and watched American Idol eliminations. What an array of musical experiences. And the one that made me most emotional was, ironically, the last one. It is strange, I am not really THAT into American Idol, I think it is a bit cheesy, no matter how I try I can not help but see the artists as sell outs, skipping the road dog days for instant success, selling their dreams of originality for money and fame and so on. I watch it to keep up with how low the standards have reached in our dying industry. But this season, this girl, this young thing, Alison Iraheta, she could sing and she had this innocence about her that was addictive, her voice just did not seem to match her naivete, her youth. And it was special. When she was voted off, not that being 4th place on American Idol is a sad spot to be in, she cried, but she cried for joy, maybe that was it, as though she could appreciate the moment for just what it was, the experience for just what it meant and all that had led up to this for her. It is only the beginning, of course, but I envied her. Not for what lies ahead, not for singing a pretty rough cover of Janis Joplin's "Cry Baby," certainly not for the poorly died red hair she has, but for her ability to enjoy the moment.

I don't think I ever do that. I am not sure I ever did that. I always wanted to know what was next. I never appreciated my time, never thought it was good enough, I guess. I just wanted to be bigger. I feel bad about that. Because I am turning 28, I have had fabulous experiences and I have not valued them enough to even carry a camera around and save snap shots. Have always waited to get doubles from friends, tags on facebook, snapfish album invites from others. It is like a lack of commitment. The ability to commit is enviable and it's also vulnerable. Which makes it scary.

The only thing I stick to shooting is my cute dog. She is the farthest thing from scary, and she certainly won't ever turn away, so maybe that makes it easier to stick to it.