I brought my sitar home this weekend. I played it for the first time in probably three weeks yesterday. Ahhh, did that feel great. Now I can get back into the practice-everyday-thing again which I’ve been missing lately cause of the move and everything. Feels good. All my CDs are at my place now, too. I’ve been listening to shit I haven’t listened to in over a year. It’s great.

Stories of the tsunami still continue to drop my heart to my stomach. I heard this report on the world that was an eyewitness telling the story of what he saw and how it all unfolded, and how he’s been dealing with simply being a survivor who saw what he saw. Tragic, depressing shit, man. I couldn’t imagine what this guy and the countless number of people just like him must be going through. Just the sheer numbers alone baffles my every time the body count rises. I remember as a kid, I always had this fascination with tidal waves. I had this image of what it might look like to see one approaching. But even as a kid, I knew what my imagination could conjure up could only be a fraction of what it might actually be like to see a giant wall of water approaching. ‘Giant wall of water.’ Got-damn, what on this world could come close to a phenomenon like that? There’s definitely something to be said about the power that created those waves. It’s a reminder of how small we really are in this world, that a four minute natural event could wash away so many lives.