10:00 am
Unstinting in each now. Is how you’ve got to be.
Sitting here in cube, ugh. But. I am going to get my mundane shit done now.
Fuck that Internet. I tire of it. The sage is strategic in his use of it. And I have a plan.
And if I can implement that plan, I will have a stack of lyrics by the time that I’m really ready to bring ‘em out.
(shed that cladding, the useless past. or is it the opposite)
(whispering sense of embedded meta-doom)
But here’s this, though: it’s a hell of a lot easier to write, period, kid, a hell of a lot easier, now that I’m not charging myself with being That Kind Of Writer.
I mean, sweet Jesus, the idea of writing novels, and not just novels, but in the end, novels in verse, about mythical failed guitar players. Yeah, that sounds like a lot of fun.
Writing about making music is a lot like writing about having sex. Boring!
So then: I’m gonna try to avoid getting into the particulars of daily practice, because I think it detracts from what I’m about. But what I can tell you is that I’m focused on technique, real technique, now, in a way that I wasn’t before and haven’t been heretofore. And part of that sure is coming from being confined to practicing acoustic on a 12-string, because that instrument is in a lot of ways twice as demanding. And that cheap Yamaha sounds better than you might think.
But then, that’s the way it is with guitars and guitar playing. Requiring a subtle kind of precision and an almost effortless kind of strength, you want to be deft fluid firm precise
Er, right.
Yeah. So that’s why I’m going to have to go back to GC one of these days and check that $200 six-string Yamaha. Because I think there might’ve been something to that cheap mother.
And it’s good thing I haven’t bought another expensive guitar yet anyway because I’m not sure at this point what exactly it is that I’m going to be wanting. There’s a vintage music store out in the western part of the state that, for instance, has a 12-string Guild that is The Deal, and you know, something like that might really end up being the thing for me. Because, shit, 12-strings are the deal but they are a lot harder to play well; but then, that’s what I’m presently about through a kind of chance and happenstance.
Uh, right.
But see, getting your wire and wood skills together after a long long layoff - not to say a nearly terminal layoff - well, getting it all back and then some via the exclusive acoustic use of the 12-string is one the best things a motherfucker can do. Because you’ve got to be stronger, better, faster, more precise. And then, when you take that back to playing, say, your Stratocaster (which I do), then you see just how much farther along you’re getting in terms of being A Monster On The Electric. Because, let’s face it, Rock Music, baby. You know, that element. Hardcore troubadour and all like that. That is The Deal.
(a certain mad scientist ethic, believin in things only I can see)
Because at this point, for me, not being All The Guitarist I Can Be is definitely not gonna cut it. And that idea quickly leads one into this head of, committing to a lifeling pursuit of the mastery of the guitartial arts, sort of thing. Which you clearly need anyway, no matter what happens, because there’s a hell of a lot of good guitar players out there, a hell of a lot of them, who will always be better than you. A lot better.
(This is all foolish bullshit, Maught Procrastination.
Stream of consciousness is all the media feed I need. Seriously, fuck surfing the Internet. A Caucasoid gotta be strategic in his use of it.)
OK, fuck it, get to work.
*
3:02 pm
Discipline.
With any, I could eventually score that whole stupid fucking Jacob Beizart thing, all of it. The fucking robot, the fucking humanoid, all of it. Complete with ambient noise and guitar solos. All of it.
And I just may.
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