Rocco's Blog 6/21/09

Thanks for a great Tour.

Rocco's Blog 3/19/09

I was in New Orleans a couple of years ago for the eclipse. Last night
I spoke with a woman who had been there too. She explained that the
moon was her flash of hope, her only friend. They speak to each other
and count each line upon the pale skin; they paint pictures of one
another and dance to celebrate the light, the indifference of the sky,
the physical earth and all her vibrations. She explained that without
the moon her love would turn coffee black. She leaves and blesses the
bus with both hands. We drive into the desert night and it's quiet.

Rocco's Blog 1/25/09

We are approaching our last Monday night at Spaceland. I have always resonated with residencies. The act of showing up at the same hour once a week seems like an experiment in and of itself. It is refreshing to know that there is a set time to play and experiment. Even more interesting is how we create a margin for everything that takes place between two intervals. During this time I have watched the rains, the mornings, the street’s, the string’s, the sun, the formless turn into the form, the inauguration, the painting, the spotted dog that watches from me from his roof, the finishing touches of the eternally unfinished, the chicken, the fear, the moon, The cassette tape hanging from a wire, Camus, concrete, and the passionate individuals who have come to listen and play.

Rocco's Blog 12/10/08

a collision of people
with different names
enter a coffee shop
and leave the same
way they came
leadbelly, leadbelly, leadbelly

Rocco's Blog 11/5/08

A woman entered a restaurant and shouted at the top of her lungs, “DO NOT PRETEND!” the bartender escorted her out and continued to serve. I laughed because I thought she had a point. Morning came and I began my walk home only to find her words written on the wall. I snapped a photo, walked home, and listened to the amazing Samuel Barber till I fell asleep.

Rocco's Blog 10/21/08

Style is alive and well on this side of town-

Rocco's Blog 8/28/08

We can see for miles in the twilight. A man crosses the streets and reveals how far it reaches. We watch the dance of shadow and street. I'm lucky to see it. I won't take it for granted anymore. Emerson wrote, "If the stars should appear but one night every thousand years how man would marvel." Stars do not shine so brightly within Los Angeles. We are too much with our own lights. This is not the great sky of Sangre de Cristo or Joshua Tree. So I wait for the magic hour. I wait for the passing, the change. I try to recognize it when it comes. That is our gift.