A really beautiful longform performance here, looking out into the vast pacific ocean nothingness. Thomas Dimuzio's house sits high above the Sunset district in SF, with an amazing view out towards the other side of the world. Something strange about the seashore this evening as it provokes a bit of claustrophobia in a way i've never experienced before. Usually the ocean feels open and liberating to me, but tonight i get the sense that it's a blockade, a wall, or maybe even a facade--in any case, i feel a little trapped by the black nothing (it is evening, so there is no differentiation between sky, water, or shore. At some point, i see a huge light drop straight into the sea. probably a shooting star crossing the horizon downward--but it could also be a meteor crashing into the ocean 1000 miles out, with the killer tsunami to follow suit. we sit and watch a bright flickering light on the horizon for awhile, imagining that it's the hawaiian islands on fire in the distance. nothing comes of this, but the music tells of both expanse and claustrophobia, and provides an amazing soundtrack for the outer, overworn corners of your teakettle mind. Thomas takes a break about 1 hour in and plays some tracks from his CDs, and then we do an impromptu announcement of a few upcoming shows which then leads into his skittery second piece. This is an excellent accompaniment to pretty much any activity. fed directly into your noggin-- Listen as the tidal wave crashes.