Be well and take care . . .

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and old lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
And surely you’ll buy your pint cup!
and surely I’ll buy mine!
And we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

We two have run about the slopes,
and picked the daisies fine;
But we’ve wandered many a weary foot,
since auld lang syne.

We two have paddled in the stream,
from morning sun till dine;
But seas between us broad have roared
since auld lang syne.

Traditional song written down by Robert Burns in 1788

Johann Sebastian Bach, Sonata II BWV 1003, Allegro

As I continue to improve my guitar skills over many decades, I keep my eyes and ears open for artists to listen to.  Tatyana Ryzhkovais is a fantastic young artist that will captivate you.

She was born in 1986 in Minsk, the capital of Belarus. At the age of 10, she took her first guitar lessons from the best music teacher of Belarus, V.V.Gromov. Thanks to her talent, perseverance and the guidance of her teacher, she was able to achieve a high proficiency level, which allowed her to perform successfully at an international duets competition in Poland. As the youngest competitor, Tatyana got the highest mark in her group and was given an honorary diploma.

In the following three years, Tatyana took part in more than 200 concerts on some of the most significant stages of Minsk and Belarus, such as the Big Hall of The National Philharmonic, Theatre of Musical Comedy, the Church of St. Roch, and also at some governmental and presidential concerts.
In 1999 Tatyana Ryzhkova was given the scholarship of the Presidential foundation in support of young talents. Various radio and TV performances helped her win love and success of the public.

I hope you enjoy her as much as I do.

Write the poems

“The nutritionist said I should eat root vegetables.
Said if I could get down thirteen turnips a day
I would be grounded, rooted.
Said my head would not keep flying away
to where the darkness lives.

The psychic told me my heart carries too much weight.
Said for twenty dollars she’d tell me what to do.
I handed her the twenty. She said, “Stop worrying, darling.
You will find a good man soon.”

The first psycho therapist told me to spend
three hours each day sitting in a dark closet
with my eyes closed and ears plugged.
I tried it once but couldn’t stop thinking
about how gay it was to be sitting in the closet.

The yogi told me to stretch everything but the truth.
Said to focus on the out breath. Said everyone finds happiness
when they care more about what they give
than what they get.

The pharmacist said, “Lexapro, Lamicatl, Lithium, Xanax.”

The doctor said an anti-psychotic might help me
forget what the trauma said.

The trauma said, “Don’t write these poems.
Nobody wants to hear you cry
about the grief inside your bones.”

But my bones said, “Tyler Clementi jumped
from the George Washington Bridge
into the Hudson River convinced
he was entirely alone.”

My bones said, “Write the poems.”
~ Andrea Gibson, The Madness Vase