Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Hello, Ladies and Gentleman

My name is Eddie Loomis. I was born and raised here in Ohio, specifically Gahanna, Ohio. I moved here to Delaware about 4 years ago. So, I never went very far. Here at Ohio State I plan on studying music which is something I love. The instrument I will be focusing on is the guitar. I started playing the guitar when I was 13 so I have been playing for almost 6 years now and I love it. I have played with a couple of groups and it is so much fun.

In English 109.01 I have really enjoyed a lot of the writing that I have been able to do. I also enjoyed reading The House on Mango Street. I think that I have also learned a lot about the writing process in general. I think I am getting better at brainstorming and playing around with different ideas as I write and it is helping me to open up and be more creative. I think this makes the writing process a lot more enjoyable and I am happy with the way I have begun to grow as a writer. I feel like I can be more creative and I have more of an outlet because this class has been good practice to develop my writng skills.

The piece of writing that I chose to read for the class was my fourth snapshot. I wrote this one about a place downtown called Park Street Tavern where there is a jam session every tuesday night. I chose to read it because I think I did my best to give life to that feeling I get when I hear the music there. It is really about that feeling and about the synergy between musicians during a good performance.

There’s a place downtown where all the cool cats go to jam. It’s a tavern on the north end and on any given Tuesday night you can hear all of it from the street. Cool smoky tone saxophones, slide trombones, wails and moans, chomping keys, walking bass lines, crashing cymbals and brushes on a snare. It all fills the air and spills out through the doors and windows. It’s warm inside, and it smells like free popcorn, but the sound always brings me home, and when I walk in the back door during Pete’s solo there’s always a chair open.

I’ll walk in around ten, buy my coca cola from the pretty girl at the bar and take a seat next to a stranger. Some of these people aren’t here for any jazz, but you can tell who is. You can see a few drumsticks by the bar, the old timers are in the corner nursing their trumpets, and you can hear a symphony of b flats coming from a group of sax players tuning up by the door. I just write my name on the list and set my guitar against the wall next to me while I listen to the quartet as they snap another tune.

Later in the evening I’ll join the band. I might not know anyone there, but when I pull out my guitar

it doesn’t matter. When you’re on stage it’s like everyone knows your name. You call a tune

that everybody knows and it all comes together.

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