Used to play guitar to keep my head settled straight. Unkind for a kid of what, was I 12? 11? having such a need but chemicals all wrong. Percolating incorrectly, triggering the wrong sympathetics or something to that effect, like a nervous cop. Itchy triggered. Needed to keep my head straight. All better now. All the best.
My parents were in college bands vamping out Tom Petty The Cars Blondie type riffs when they made me, or so they say. Me playing the guitar was thus important to them. Or so they say. So I still play it and it's part of me and so on. I musn't belabor the point.
It's good it's great but it don't fit on a plate.
Sometimes I focus so hard, so naturally to the point where there's no intent, no focus at all really, that I get this headache. It's my teeth. I grit them and never notice until my whole head hurts. I rock back and forth and focus my totality and play my songs and think my thoughts and I feel my head hurt. My teeth hurt. Gritting idiot.
A song doesn't need much but a hook. Any kind of hook. There's technical defined things called a hook, yeah? Think so, but I'm talking metaphorical hooks. Like that in Girls' "Lust for Life" where whiny singer tauts his voice diagonal like a sneer - "...cra-zy..." - or that greased twinge George Harrison spits into that lick in "Hold Your Hand". Latter that, that's quasi perfection so if that didn't hook me in melody could, harmony could, voices could; but the Girl's song is but awful but for a hooks. So I love it so. Want to write a hook, a hanger to hang my songs upon. And then.
Living under bridges isn't easy, but it isn't either hard or rough neither. It's day by day going past every day. Keeping fed, and keeping head set, that's a responsibility but only responsibility I've got or need. It's what I've always wanted or needed. Freedom. Nothing left to lose. Kris Kristofferson is a gnarly looking dude but he is gnarly and awesome. Categorical genius type Rhodes Scholar and such and he was mopping floors at Sun Studios just because he had nothing better to do. And he loved music. Got to meet Johnny Cash that way. I wanna be an iconoclast when I grow up.
My parents were in college bands vamping out Tom Petty The Cars Blondie type riffs when they made me, or so they say. Me playing the guitar was thus important to them. Or so they say. So I still play it and it's part of me and so on. I musn't belabor the point.
It's good it's great but it don't fit on a plate.
Sometimes I focus so hard, so naturally to the point where there's no intent, no focus at all really, that I get this headache. It's my teeth. I grit them and never notice until my whole head hurts. I rock back and forth and focus my totality and play my songs and think my thoughts and I feel my head hurt. My teeth hurt. Gritting idiot.
A song doesn't need much but a hook. Any kind of hook. There's technical defined things called a hook, yeah? Think so, but I'm talking metaphorical hooks. Like that in Girls' "Lust for Life" where whiny singer tauts his voice diagonal like a sneer - "...cra-zy..." - or that greased twinge George Harrison spits into that lick in "Hold Your Hand". Latter that, that's quasi perfection so if that didn't hook me in melody could, harmony could, voices could; but the Girl's song is but awful but for a hooks. So I love it so. Want to write a hook, a hanger to hang my songs upon. And then.
Living under bridges isn't easy, but it isn't either hard or rough neither. It's day by day going past every day. Keeping fed, and keeping head set, that's a responsibility but only responsibility I've got or need. It's what I've always wanted or needed. Freedom. Nothing left to lose. Kris Kristofferson is a gnarly looking dude but he is gnarly and awesome. Categorical genius type Rhodes Scholar and such and he was mopping floors at Sun Studios just because he had nothing better to do. And he loved music. Got to meet Johnny Cash that way. I wanna be an iconoclast when I grow up.
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