In the park today, a man was playing trumpet to the trees.

He would point the horn in the direction of a tree—just smaller trees, man-sized ones—and blow a sequence of notes. It wasn't musical, per se, but it wasn't just noise. At the song's conclusion, he would move a few feet, face another small tree, and repeat the process. Each time, the string of notes got longer, the blasts more pressing. It was as if the quiet song of "Grow, grow" had suddenly become a command of "Grow, dammit."

In other news, the musical world opened up and smiled on me today. I get to sell one of my favorite bands! (See, that big mouth paid off...) And Germany won the first game of the 2006 World Cup, 4-2 against Costa Rica (who, to their credit, played well). Happy birthday, Miroslav Klose. Tomorrow's England's opener against Paraguay. Eight a.m.'s a little early to be lifting an actual pint, but I'm with you there in spirit, boys.

Tomorrow night's another musical delicacy in the form of Lorenzo Goetz and Miranda Sound at Cicero's. If you're in St. Louis, won't you join me?

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