c'mon...would you rather be with a computer geek or a funky bass slapper? a football player or someone that made their humbuckers SCREEEAAAMMM? someone with slick licks or a pogo stick? ... someone who could titillate the ivories or litigate the bribees? music is sexy... simple as that (especially the blues)

i'm not referring to country players... i did say MUSICIANS

According to People Magazine Ben Affleck is the sexiest man alive.

I have always been attracted to the bad boys.

MrBliss said:

and johnny cash says...

EllisDee said:

LMAO classic!

MrBliss said:

he asked me to relay that message, and considering how adament he looks about it, i wasn't about to say no...

'Are musicians the sexiest damn people on the planet? And why are we?'

:I: am the DreZone!

:p

'dre

MrBliss said:

That's why.

No,just Prince. But I always dated Musicians so I know the Deal with them.

I sit down with my gig bag on my lap. Almost as if in ritual, yet each experience different, I begin to assemble my Sax.


Perhaps the most poignant part of the whole process...even before I begin to play the music, is unzipping the bag.


Within the bag itself are the sounds I have heard drown my soul so many times.


My hands find a home while touching the box which contains the reeds that come to life within my mouth.


My saxophone in itself is so sensual that even before I begin ...while assemble it, a piece of it must find its place within my mouth.


All hail the maker of the saxophone ... a soul who would create an instrument that must find its place within my mouth even before the music begins.


I take the reed from the small holder and place the wood between my lips. I find it almost ironic that something so hard not be useable until it becomes soft. Then I realize that I have just grasped another one of the beautiful lessons of the depth of the saxophone.


My tongue caresses the reed between my lips while I continue to assemble my saxophone.


I cannot talk while I hold the reed within me ...for if I do I will loose it, and my meditation of becoming one with my saxophone will be broken...once again...all hail the maker of the saxophone.


My hands feel the brass and my fingers the ivory. The breaths I take now are so airy I wonder for how long I have been suffocating without them.


Almost as if in a completion of the ceremony, I reach for the piece which will hold my saxophone to me... it belongs around my neck. One of the most sensitive places on my body is what I must use to hold this instrument to me... irony...Did I choose my sax, or did my sax choose me?


It is all of the sensations at once that take me, my warm wet lips vibrating from the notes, my lungs working to produce a flow to feed into the instrument, my fingers caressing the ivory topped stems, the sides of my waist which cradle the instrument and my neck which produces sensations of desire from the rubbing of the neck band.


Like the way the tide comes back and slowly covers the beach again. Beginning with only a small portion, yet by the end the entire beach is covered with water. Swallowing anything small enough to be caught in the wake...yet it is the ocean, so even those things large will be taken as well.



The music of my saxophone completely engulfs any worry I have had...and if I am not too careful it will take my souls cares as well.



The few sparse notes I begin with during the warm up envelop and consume everything in their wake ...and as I continue to play, the notes strung together build a strength and amass all left behind

-for my baby

i am a musician

and i am sexy

do the math yall"



___
toomys

Natasha said:

Ohhh!! and how do U deal with them, hmm?

:I:'ll assume that U do this by NOT dealing with them!

'dre

x

when alicia keys works those fingers on the piano,its 2 sexy
dunno y
[This message was edited Sun Dec 1 4:13:24 PST 2002 by Joshy84au]