Alright, I’m not quite sure why I’ve been writing so much recently. It’s definitely not the lack of something to do [with 2.5 jobs and 3 courses, this is without a doubt not the reason]. But anyhows, the summer’s finally here [yippee], and the days are much too beautiful now for speaking of heartache.

I’m thinking of playing sometime downtown, maybe in a nice lounge where the lights are dim, the piano is dreamy and the people don’t expect to be entertained. It’s funny but I find that I’ve grown increasingly self-aware and more and more uncertain as to what to do with myself in front of a whole floor full of strangers. It was so easy back home; but here, there’s more and more a need to prove myself, as if the approval of a sea of nameless faces will substantiate my worth, tell me that I’ve created something good. I wish I could hide behind my music; hide behind the chords, the notes, the words; I want to tell my stories and laugh my little laughs; I want to play to my home crowd. But how does this all add up? Music’s become more than a auditory art now, it’s visual entertainment as well, and unfortunately I’m not quite cut out to be at the center of anybody’s focus. Where are the days gone when the music itself was enough?

That aside, little snippets of a little trip the FH308 crew took down to the west side of queen for some good live jazz and what not have been added to the Escapades in Toronto album.

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