Dear Imaginary Reader

Dear Imaginary Reader,

Today I would have great things to talk about. I am quite under the influence of my good old friend Jack, a friend Genevieve finds deplorably smelly and unfortunately strong. But he is a good friend to me, so I don't care what She Thinks. No, Genevieve, he is not a better friend than you. But he serves his purposes, as do you. Which tonight, it so happens, was an accidental exploration of the musical pursuits that are soo soo far beyond us. How comes it that two classically trained mademoiselles of the twenty first century would mess around with bass-jump honky tonk and blues in its rawest and boogie woogie form? It was really really fun, compared to the shit I do in choir every day. And, I'm sorry to say, Mr. Brownlee, my dearest and sweetest old friend slash piano teacher, much more fun than anything you have taught me. I take pride in the fact that blues is my rebellion, and much less wholesome to me than my friends who have been tainted by the poison that is today's most popular music. So, Imaginary Reader, if you are out there, let me tell you that music is the greatest thing that God ever let us happen upon. If you don't believe me or feel what I am feeling is true, that is your mission for today, this week, this year, whatever measurement of time is most suited to you, whether based on convenience or true potential for depth and digging. Be an archaeologist, if you must, in order to dig into what is there and has been forever. Ask the people around you, they may have found what you have not. The magic that is music. The wonder that every man is capable of. Experience the history. The daring. The tension and surprise that is music. I believe in you. Be a musical pirate, because that is the only way I have learned anything. Both literally and figuratively, that is. Please don't turn me in for pirating music. I'd keep your secret, if you had one, Imaginary Reader, Imaginary Friend. I hope that you are a fan of Louis Armstrong and Norah Ephron, like I am. Have a good night. I love you, Dear Imaginary Reader...