Writing from the Iron Gate Theater on Penn campus, where I have just learned the following equation:
Let x = guy who traveled the world in high school and college playing the clarinet (badly, it must be noted).
Let y = 13 years, two months, and 16 days since the last time said clarinet was picked up.
Let z = approximately 3,468 packs of Marlboro Mediums.
x + y + z = making a 2½ single reed vibrate with your lungs is roughly equivalent to making a two-by-four vibrate by thinking really hard at it.
2 1/2? Lightweight. Back in my day, I used a 4 1/2, or sometimes a 5.
No wonder Jen smiles so often.
I used to have one of those plastic reeds for tenor sax that I used when marching. I think it was a 3 1/2. It was loud and terrible.
I don’t know that I even remember how to hold a sax these days. It has been a little over 9 years since I last touched one.
Maybe this can be the occassion that inspires you to quit smoking. I can still play the tuba as loud as I ever could. Oh, and I do not smoke.
Love, a concerned friend.
Adam, you say that as if you being able to play that loudly is a good thing. ;-)
OK, you playing loud is bad for us, but you not having breath to play loud is bad for you!
I’ve arranged to have a MacBook running GarageBand as part of my gravesite’s perpetual care. Not only does it sound better, but it’s much more capable of handling a Monty Gratuituous Key Change.
now that’s just low – especially considering Monty reads your blog (LOVE YA BIG MONT!)
Seriously? Monty’s reading this thing? If so: Greetings Monty, from approximately half of your 1991 pit band.
Jeff, if you need a(nother) reason to quite smoking, think of all the upgrades you’ll need to install on that MacBook. Without you around, who’s going to know how to install them, given Apple’s current market share…?
(See…you’re not the only one who can hit below the belt…)
Re Monty, I’m fairly sure Adam was experiencing a moment of lightheadedness from blowing too hard into his tuba.
He should stop smoking. Oh wait, that’s you!
:-)
That’s it, everyone dogpile on the guy with the weakened lungs. Afterwards, you can all spend your evening kicking puppies and mocking the handicapped.