sondheim at panix.com
Wed Jan 5 11:36:51 UTC 2022
qin with terz guitar and chromatic harmonica
one take; i played qin and terz together. qin and chromatic.
i thought this can't be right but it was. there were four
sections. i placed them linear and out of order. tonight i
can't sleep. again nightmares. i won't use a comma. i want
my people around. in the dream there was torture. i thought
furious pain. i try to keep my lines neat. outside the club
was screaming. i'll never use a comma again. things should
come together awkward in acts of awkward self-assertion. i
am a burden to my friends. i am marked with the wabi-sabi
jewish star. this is my music. zeami is my teacher and i am
no one's pupil. this music is hewn from wood under some
slight tension. every string is a suspension bridge. that's
why sometimes cars and trucks fall into the sea of sound.
even the chromatic harp dances to the architecture of a
pearwood body. there are almost no reviews and i stick to a
ghetto of my own creation. the images are from no play. noh
play of my own without script actor stage. without audience.
what happened to the beautiful city not on a hill but in an
imaginary of someone who was a founder almost five hundred
years ago. what happened happens now. no equal distribution
now. no hollow noh stage. no zeami. sound scraped from an
inconceivable memory. city of rubble and compression. no
place to make music here. no freedom. we record in debris.
scrubland. we living among the living. we seethe. tendrils.
we reproduce. the remnant music remains. memory, memory.
and that comma ends it all.
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