Magick

Two straight hours on the Guild. It isn’t hard to do.

The guitar has a tone that destroys minds. It leaves mine in a puddle. In fact, what’s left is running out my left ear right now. Just as well, otherwise I might go drop a comment on some blog. (Is there a pill for that?)

I’d just played for almost an hour and put the thing away. Then I sat down here to write, but the sounds in my head were louder than the words. I drank a little more coffee and figured, why fight it? So I opened the case again, and we were off.

I play a few odd things that no one would recognize, but mostly I improvise. That frequently takes the form of variations on instrumental songs that come out of the, uh, field… I pay the closest attention to damping and picking for full effect. Sometimes a repeated phrase becomes something huge.

Three days ago I invented (sounds more realistic than “composed”) a song without words called “Honeysuckle.” I think of it as dedicated to “the one who got away,” all kinds of resonance there. It’s something that came up in response to recent emotional events — my Eastern Shore song, I think, more than anything else. It starts off sort of soft and builds into a crashing anthem I have to play over and over again or else I’ll go to hell.

Wow. I think I just gave myself a lesson.

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