-the wakeup in a bad mood with a closing from Kerouac- 

there’s lots of piano players.

you got your classical

you got your honky tonk

you got your jazz and yer blues

and unfortunately the piano-pounding kid across the hall

who thinks he’s alone on the floor, but he's not, and he stinks.

but the Big Sky Object decides to pluck

Mihaela Ursuleasa from the crowd because..

what? Biggie needs another piano player?

this seems unfair.

sort-of like the highest bidder who takes his Vermeer

to a Himalayan mountaintop retreat.

fucker.

pisses me off.

and this coming from a guy who's never seen a Vermeer up close.

not a woman around this morning

to tell me not to take it personally.

not a woman around this morning

to tell me she understands.

not a woman around this morning

who plays the piano.

I got a friend who lectured me

on the virtues of long relationships with women.

I love you, but fuck you, man.

I like the short ones;

the lightning bolts of relationships.

It's all in the burning before the snuffing, you see.

take this young piano player right here for example:

total playing time: 60 minutes 25 seconds, then snuffed

faster'n jazzier than anybody! 

"wham wham the true blue song of man."

or Mihaela Ursuleasa for those taking notes.