so what is this anyway?

i am standing in a roomful of people. eyes closed. i’m listening to the band. hot tunes. they’re pushing the beat, playing slightly ahead of where the tick-tock would land. without speeding up. and it’s working. the whole thing has an energy that would disappear if it was all straight on the tick. i think i’m being inconspicuous, standing in my usual spot against the pillar. but i open my eyes and she’s looking at me. with an expression i can’t read. i put the question on my face. comes the answer.

“i wish i could hear music like you do.”

not the first time.

back home i started wondering how to get down in words the experience of playing that music, that you’re listening to. what came out took its own form, regularly surprising me where it went, and what it seemed to be trying to say. and it had its own voice, which i tried to reproduce in written form as faithfully as i could. what i began when music was first being reliably recorded on computers, when a phone was a thing on a wall, when the internet was email, listservs and websites and social media was ‘the well’, was finished as a period piece.

because life.

thanks to a break in the space/time continuum, and the generosity of a few test readers, we made it to the end. time to share it with a few more people.

what’s here is first draft. full of rough magic, accidental genius, and a couple of things yeah the singer’d like to get behind the mic and do over again when we get to that part of the process. if you’re looking for the polished sheen of the fully mastered final recording you will be disappointed. also what’s here is personal—and i write in lowercase. with two spaces after a period. anything else is a foreign language. beautiful. but even though i’m reasonably fluent i will always speak it with an accent. which i will get good with. someday. smallsigh. my own style includes singlewording ideas like like myplace and lightfall to form portmanteaux (portsmanteau? ah english), leaving some words un-capitalized because i feel it gives them a different meaning (see ‘all lowercase’ above), and of course our national quirk of using both english and american spelling (usually not in the same sentence, that would be gauche).

if you have a low tolerance for that sort of thing you need to step away. i’ll be fine, promise. and you won’t get triggered.

also, if, like me, you prefer to come at a story clean, with no idea of things like the writer’s intent, or what’s coming, stop here now. go read. if you’re still curious come back later.

i’ll wait.


after the fold

if i was talking to a fellow writer i’d share that as i was finishing this draft i realised there’s more than one story here that needs to be told. and that the title i’ve been using since the very beginning of this process is not the name of this tale i’ve just finished. it’s the name of the whole arc. which of course means this one needs a new title. yeah that’s something i wasn’t expecting.

all of which brings its own challenges.

but it also means i’d have the chance to explore things like how those who play to make the rent behave differently from those who don’t, the experience of helping the horn player work out best mic placement while the show goes on around us, how i was taught the difference between festival and concert is that one has workshops, watching a fellow artist sag when i used the most excellent useful and commonsense phrase ‘all the genders’, the fine teacher who used to be a professional wrassler in the deep south, with stops along the way for the amphitheatre of dragonflies, the dance of the drunken uncle, schroedinger’s date, the insufferable groove, the parade of the iced cottonwoods, the difference between teaching and learning…

and what it is to see the world in sound

which is at the heart of all this.

wish me luck.

k

words are not my first language, my memories are made up of sounds, i think in scenes, and i've been told i speak in stories. friends've said it's not that i know weird things, it's that i've had to use that weird knowledge professionally. i have no idea what they're talking about.

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i write with a few specific friends in mind. some are with me now. others are just a place in my heart that no one else can hear. but it’s good for me to be reminded that you’re reading this too. and maybe getting something out of it. which makes for better work, and most importantly a better read for you. it’s funny how that works.

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thanks for reading.

/kb

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thoughts and stories in words and sound