Monday, December 26, 2011

other places

Enough of culinary goodness and conversation as I leave the house to walk in the woods where the palette is grey and grey and brown under the relentless clear azure to be alone with the thoughts and with God because people are exhausting as much as I enjoy them and it feels strange to have this much time unstructured, time to be alone and hover in that transitional time of years turning over and living out of a backpack at the homes of others while my life's possessions reside in boxes and in piles for others to sort through to see if they need anything or can give it to someone who does.

I played around with the new baritone guitar because the people downstairs weren't home, though all my attempts at real songwriting were really nothing except noise and noodling. A few adjustments of the tone and reverb resulted in a pleasing crunch of distortion and satisfying waves of sludgy wavering tremolo like the blackened waves of Lake Erie breaking on the littered beach, the coherence elusive.

there's not much to say, just the unexpressible.


Randal Graves said...

You miss the Towering Slab, you're fooling no one.

Unexpressible? Bah, you just expressed through your guitar conduit, silly goose.

Word verification: heram. Who let Silvio out of his cruise ship croon gig?

Anonymous said...

"i kicked the habit. shed my skin. this is the new stuff. i come dancing in. ..."