23 Dec 2018
I had my chance, goddamn knew it too, as it happened. So obvious on the piano bench, couldn't be any more it than this. One of those times where people ask if I give lessons. I always shut it down quick, nah, can't teach. For shit. Could've done without that second bit. Shut it down, don't tease it out. Christ, could at least attempt to pretend to teach, in theory, get some conversation going with her, born and raised here, me too, haven't I ever met you before? Didn't think so, she was maybe a half gen ahead, perfect, just shy of those evil associations. Couldn't think of the thing to say to get to the next sentence. Don't look directly at the thing you want that's so scary since you want it so much. So much to lose. So diffuse tension by resigning to losing. As it happened, there seemed so much in common, the kind of girl I should be talking to. But, it's still so nervy, still running deep, no smoothing over with analgesics anymore, quick fix is disconnect, empty agenda leaving meditative busywork and transcription of pale dream fragments, hollow relief at least there is no longer anything on the hook, the dancing dangling edge that I can't even find within me to define with words that sound too soft and sweet. Fuck that pussy shit. Instead, improvise later, channel what I should have said, ornate inaction, feeling reverberation, Born and Raised Beth
4 Dec 2018
The Deon family is neat and nuclear: Dad's in the driver's seat, Mom's in the passenger seat, Alison and Jonathan, five and sev...
I'm working out new ways to perform and record. They take the form of melodic fragments, half-assed renditions of half-remembered songs,...