Dust
Look at this place! Yikes. What's it been, twenty-some-days since I last typed?
Much has been happening. Attempting this "band thing", working through a few new storylines/ideas, final editing on my ss manuscript. With all that, writing keeps getting pushed. Mostly because of the music.
Wouldn't it be great if I could write music? Genius. Then I could focus my attention in one spot (as hard as that actually is for me). Alas, I can't. It's like some sick curse. Oh, I try, but mostly I just end up with cool chops, a great beat and no melody. Lyrics, not so bad... poetry really. But melodies? Trust me, you'd rather hand me a cool "axe", crank it up to eleven and have me rip something up--grittysweet, baby--which complicates matters, because, through some obvious psychosis, I keep charging ahead, lining up gigs. Chalk it up to years of ignoring HUGE elephants in rooms. No exceptions here. This time it's... There's No Band.
No-band, Shmo-band.
I think it's just a Half-Mid-life Crisis. Or a Quarter-life Crisis. Something like that anyway. I just want to do something in music. Sure, I'm playing at church (a lot), but I want something else. Church is different, there I'm totally worshipping. Some weeks I have no idea what I'm playing, just that the guitar neck feels good in my hand and something is rocking.
Currently, four of us are kind-of-forming a "something" to deal with my Sure we can play it! problem. Keith, myself, Josh and John, my brother-in-law (who can sing, and not only that, he can write stuff...like... real-radio stuff).
Trouble is when word gets out about being in a band... how do you stop that train?
Todd, my boss, overheard me discussing this summer festival "gig" and suddenly had this look in his eye. He says, "You know, I can get you guys in at the Atwood annual festival. Like that," and snaps his fingers. (I secretly believe this guy could be President the way he makes things happen.) It was on the heels of him asking me how John was doing. (I also secretly believe Todd is smitten with my brother in law.)
Turns out, the Atwood festival is mid-August. Something to think about if the Monticello Academy thing pans out. Maybe. Would have to review the play, plus the current roster of guys may not all be interested. You never know though, right?
Anyway, I officially wrote something. And only half-bad, so that's good. I think. Kind of an unseasoned mashed-potatoes entry here. Everyone's due for one at some point.
Much has been happening. Attempting this "band thing", working through a few new storylines/ideas, final editing on my ss manuscript. With all that, writing keeps getting pushed. Mostly because of the music.
Wouldn't it be great if I could write music? Genius. Then I could focus my attention in one spot (as hard as that actually is for me). Alas, I can't. It's like some sick curse. Oh, I try, but mostly I just end up with cool chops, a great beat and no melody. Lyrics, not so bad... poetry really. But melodies? Trust me, you'd rather hand me a cool "axe", crank it up to eleven and have me rip something up--grittysweet, baby--which complicates matters, because, through some obvious psychosis, I keep charging ahead, lining up gigs. Chalk it up to years of ignoring HUGE elephants in rooms. No exceptions here. This time it's... There's No Band.
No-band, Shmo-band.
I think it's just a Half-Mid-life Crisis. Or a Quarter-life Crisis. Something like that anyway. I just want to do something in music. Sure, I'm playing at church (a lot), but I want something else. Church is different, there I'm totally worshipping. Some weeks I have no idea what I'm playing, just that the guitar neck feels good in my hand and something is rocking.
Currently, four of us are kind-of-forming a "something" to deal with my Sure we can play it! problem. Keith, myself, Josh and John, my brother-in-law (who can sing, and not only that, he can write stuff...like... real-radio stuff).
Trouble is when word gets out about being in a band... how do you stop that train?
Todd, my boss, overheard me discussing this summer festival "gig" and suddenly had this look in his eye. He says, "You know, I can get you guys in at the Atwood annual festival. Like that," and snaps his fingers. (I secretly believe this guy could be President the way he makes things happen.) It was on the heels of him asking me how John was doing. (I also secretly believe Todd is smitten with my brother in law.)
Turns out, the Atwood festival is mid-August. Something to think about if the Monticello Academy thing pans out. Maybe. Would have to review the play, plus the current roster of guys may not all be interested. You never know though, right?
Anyway, I officially wrote something. And only half-bad, so that's good. I think. Kind of an unseasoned mashed-potatoes entry here. Everyone's due for one at some point.
posted by about me at 8:17 PM
3 Comments:
long live 11fold, or elevenfold, or levenfuld, or whatever..
haha.. well.. if word gets out, it'll be a lot easier (or a lot harder, depending on how we do) to get a permanent roster. ; ]
That Todd.. he's a good'n.
heh... just beware of the rabbits...
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That's right, hey wait, no I didn't hear a thing... what'd you say?
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