Blog Archive


Sunday, April 16, 2006

This is a Johnson child's half-size guitar; I traded my Fender
Cyclone for it. It's faster. It's got a faster reach.

Guitar is all I can do. Everything else is talk, concept,
ideation. Guitar is labor/energy. Guitar is skill. I wanted to
be the fastest guitar player in the world. I learned the
chords digital-style, sort [chord], a b c d e f g a7 b7 c7 etc.
I practiced speed. I practiced speed all the time. The forms
began to come. I slept through the harmony melody. I
went after the forms. Nothing was too fast. I wanted more
than twenty-two notes/second. I didn't want to cheat. I'd
didn't want to cheat myself. I wanted it there, what my
hands, wrist, fingers, were doing. I wanted to play faster
than I could think. I wanted to trip over myself, catch up
with myself. I caught up with myself. I added chords. I
subtracted them. I did chords. Then music sped out of
my control. I abjure myself. I forgive myself. I couldn't
follow it. I couldn't do anything. It surrounded me. It
held me in thrall. We didn't speak through each other. We
didn't speak to each other. I played faster. I surprised
myself. I kept surprising myself. I forgot theory. I forgot
speech. I did this for you, baby-bounce. I did this for you.

No comments: