ka-boom.

Last night I knocked over a stack of books. I do this often; I try not to, but it happens. It's usually an accumulation of things I've read and set aside. I tell myself I'll put it on a shelf, but it gets hidden by the next thing I've read, then obscured by something I look at once, they buried by two books I just bought, all the way into becoming a base to my mountain of procrastination. Happens.

Somewhere in this stack was a songbook for Lalo. Lalo is a vibe player; she's modern, multi-influenced, chaotic, childish, organic, sexy and cohesive all at once, multiple facets claiming dominance at random intervals. I saw her at the Rochester Jazz Festival a few years ago and she struck me as the most original thing I've heard in a long time. She was my favorite musical paradox: someone quiet and unassuming who can completely tear the living Christ out of their instrument. Plus, she's pretty cute.

So, she was selling a songbook and I picked one up. I wanted to arrange some of her stuff for guitar but, somewhere between sophomore and junior year, the book got lost in another stack waiting to get toppled over. Last night I found it, and every promise about what I wanted to do but never got to awoke to stare me in the face.

I know that making promises to yourself then forgetting about them is a stereotype of my generation. Still...they come back to haunt you one way or another.